


May The Dread Wolf Catch Your Scent

by Lalaurie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Pre-Trespasser, SolasYouAbsoluteDoucheHowCouldYou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 68,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaurie/pseuds/Lalaurie
Summary: It looked like...no, she was just confused, that's all. Dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Because if she wasn't, she was standing in the middle of the Main Hall. In Skyhold. -"Flashy entrance there, I must say! But, who are you, exactly?" Hermione spun around, but what she saw did nothing to make the situation any less surreal. "Varric?" she whispered. "Are you real? Is this real?"





	1. Are You Real?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all!  
> So, Hermione Granger in Thedas - that just needed to happen xD And of course she meets the lovely, lovely elf we all love and adore, right? xD
> 
> I only wrote this fic to get over my broken-hearted state of mind (because OH MY GOD, SOLAS! WHY!) and not to post it here. But eventually I thought 'why not'.
> 
> Also, I wrote most of this before Trespasser, so I didn't know the whole story at that point. That's why Solas' explanation is a bit off xD
> 
> Anyway, let's just get this story started, yeah?
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

Hermione Granger was exhausted. Not too strange, considering that the time was four am. _Damn you, guilty pleasure,_ she thought as she turned off the television and the Playstation 4.

_One should think I'd had enough of violence,_ she thought as she was brushing her teeth, _considering I fought in a bloody war. Literally a bloody war._

The war ended seventeen years ago, though, and although Hermione still had nightmares sometimes, and if someone startled her, she had them at wandpoint in less than a second, she was no longer _traumatized_.

She had finished her schooling after the war, and then she had begun working in the Ministry of Magic. She had also taken her Masters in potions, charms, and transfiguration, and for the last four years, she had worked as a volunteer at St Mungos two or three times a week. Her free time was spent with friends, or creating new potions or charms.

And that was just _some_ of the things she had done over the years.

Basically, she was rather busy.

One should think that was enough.

_But it isn't, now is it?_ she thought as she undressed and got into bed. _You're bored, aren't you?_

She had to admit it was the truth. Hermione Granger was bored. Her years at Hogwarts had been..exciting. Rather _too_ exciting, one should think, and she _had_ thought that, tried to convince herself of it, at least.

There was a reason, however, for why she kept herself so busy. She was restless, and it was as if she was searching for something, craving _more_ of life.

She hadn't quite realised what that something was until she had a ridiculous moment where she heard her own voice in her head.

_Oh, Merlin, I almost miss Voldemort._

She had been appalled by herself, but blamed the ridiculous notion on the fact that she had been in the weekly ministry meeting, and had been bored to tears.

Except that..the thought returned, sometimes, and she hated herself for thinking that way.

Of course, it wasn't exactly Voldemort she missed, not really, it was _her life_ while Voldemort terrorised the Wizarding World she missed.

Who knew Hermione Granger was an adrenaline junkie.

Then, about three years ago, she had discovered a marvellous invention called Playstation. And with it, she had discovered the marvellous world of _gaming._

She had, during the last three years, spent _countless_ hours gaming, and had an impressive collection of games. Not that she played very many of them. She basically played _three_ games. Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age 2, and Dragon Age Inquisition.

She had completed them both at least ten times, and was currently twenty hours into her seventeenth, or so, playthrough of Dragon Age Inquisition.

She had just arrived in Skyhold.

_Damn you guilty pleasure, damn you fun-to-kill-monsters,_ she thought as she realised she had to a portkey to catch in less than seven hours. _Oh, well, at least you have packed._

She had finished packing days ago, and she once again thanked magic as her eyes fell on her small, leather bag. Her _enchanted,_ small, leather bag.

_I could probably survive at least five years, living in the woods with the content of that tiny bag,_ she thought, _but then again, I am going to be on the move for the next year, so who cares if I have brought half of everything I own._

One year was a long time, after all, and she would go mad without her books, her research, her clothes, her favourite elf-made wine, (they didn't have said wine in the States, as far as she was aware) and her..well, everything. Even a ridiculous amount of galleons, because she had every intention of buying presents for everyone, and she suspected she would be making quite a lot of purchases for herself as well. It was not every day one went to the United States.

The paranoid post-war part of her had also joined in on the packing, and she had five tents in different sizes, extra wands, a ridiculous amount of potions, and everything she would need to survive, basically.

And then there was the fact that she was going to spend the next year travelling around in the United States, a tour, basically, where she would give lectures in advanced Charms, and Potions, and how-to-invent-and-create-new-potions-and-charms, and also how to merge said invent-and-create-projects.

Ergo, her bag contained the materials, as she needed them in her lectures, because her lectures were practical for the most part. And Hermione Granger had no intention of using second-grade materials and ingredients, so she brought her own.

_Stop fussing over it,_ she thought as she curled up in the bed, _you are fully prepared, and have everything you need._

Sighing, she flicked a finger to turn off the lights, and closed her eyes to get some sleep.

-o-

_Merlin, why did I have to spend six hours playing Dragon Age,_ she thought as she brushed her teeth the next morning. _Gods, I'm tired._

After showering and getting dressed, she picked up her bag, pulled her wand, and focused on the apparition point outside the ministry.

_Gods, this is going to be boring,_ she thought, _because Mr Willington has to be the most boring man in the entire world. Wish I could go on epic adventures with The Dread Wolf instead._

With that thought, Hermione disapparated.

The world came into view again, and Hermione gasped for breath. Her apparation had been dreadful, and it felt like she had apparated to the other side of the planet.

She quickly realised she was not in the ministry. _What the hell?_ she thought as she took in her surroundings. The room she was in looked..familiar. Oh, so familiar. Why did it look so bloody familiar?

It looked like...no...no, she was just confused, that was all. Dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Because if she wasn't dreaming, she was standing in the middle of Skyhold. In the main hall, more specifically.

"Flashy entrance there, I must say! But, who are you, exactly?"

Hermione spun around, but what she saw did nothing to make the situation any less surreal.

"Varric?" she whispered. "Are you real? Is this real?"

The short man gazed at her with puzzled eyes for a long moment. "I am real, as far as I know. As for the rest? Afraid so."

"Oh, shit," Hermione breathed. "Just... Oh, shit."

 


	2. Andaran Atish'an, Fen Harel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, people!
> 
> I wonder how many readers this fic will have. This is actually some of the reason for why I decided to post it xD I'm really curious!
> 
> Anyway! Go go, chapter 2!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

 

-o-

It had been a whirlwind. An insane whirlwind. She was in Skyhold. _Skyhold._ She had met the War Council. She had talked to the bloody Inquisitor. It was all utterly insane.

They didn't exactly believe her yet, not that she blamed them. She had tried to explain, however, and eventually they had given her a chance to actually prove that she was telling the truth.

The truth, indeed. That she was from a parallel universe where Thedas was a fictional world, not to mention a _game._ A game she had played through multiple times.

_This is insane,_ Hermione thought as she walked across the courtyard in search of a place where she could have a moment alone, so she could _think._

-o-

She found herself on a rooftop, eventually.

_What am I going to do?_ Hermione thought. _This just can't be real._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a prickly feeling on her neck, something she felt whenever someone was watching her. The prickly feeling was accompanied by a weird sensation. A...magical signature?

"So you are the source of the strange magic."

Hermione turned her head, and her heart sank. _Oh, Merlin,_ she thought. _Oh, Merlin._

Hermione was faced with the fictional character that had broken her heart over and over again over the past few months.

One should think that fictional characters could not do that, to break one's heart. That was, however, not the case. Unfortunately.

"Solas," she whispered, "There you are."

He looked puzzled, and frowned. _How can someone frown in a sexy way,_ Hermione thought. _This is just unfair._ She shook her head. "It's a long story."

He looked uncertain. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know me, and yet, I do not know you."

Hermione realised she was confusing him. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit confused. As I said, it's a long story. I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"A name I have never heard before," he said, gazing at her. "But, it seems, you have heard mine. I am Solas."

"I know," she said quietly. "Would you like to sit down?"

He sat down, and gazed at her. "My manners fail me, however. Forgive me for being wary. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger."

_Oh, Merlin, do you really have to say wary in that way of yours,_ Hermione thought as she gazed at him for a long moment. Eventually, she turned her head and gazed into the horizon as she spoke. "Andaran atish'an, Fen Harel."

Her greeting was met with silence. Complete silence.

Eventually, she turned her head and looked at him again. He looked...paralyzed. He was staring at her with wide eyes, frozen in spot.

"Ir abelas," she said, "I realise this must come as a shock to you."

"How...who are you?"

"That is a long story. But I will tell you, if you have the time."

"I have," he said breathlessly. "I have the time."

Hermione nodded, and waved her hand, casting an disillusionment charm around them, so no one would see or hear what she was about to tell him. She proceeded to summon a small pensieve from her bag, it was the size of her palm and allowed her to project memories, instead of diving into them.

"I'm not from here," she said, and put her finger to her temple, pulling out a memory. Putting the silver string into the small pensieve, she continued. "I'm from a place very different from here. A parallel universe, if you will."

In the air in front of them they could see a miniature version of herself, walking down the street towards Piccadilly Circus.

"The technology is very different. _Everything_ is very different. As you can see. And in my world, Thedas is a fictional world."

She pulled another memory from her mind, the memory of her as she was coming home with Dragon Age Inquisition in her hand.

"I know how the story ends," she said quietly as she watched the memory of herself. "Thus, I know who you are."

-o-

"How does the story end?" Solas asked ever so quietly a long while later. They had watched Hermione play the game for a bit, just the beginning, and then she had shown him how she ended up here. "Do we win?"

Hermione contemplated for a moment, trying to figure out what to answer. "You win," she eventually said. "But your orb will break in the process."

"Oh," Solas replied quietly. "I see."

Hermione nodded before giving him a sad look. "What I don't understand is why. Why did you give it to him in the first place?"

Solas shook his head. "I wanted - I _needed_ to undo my mistakes. I was weak, confused – I was desperate."

"You wanted to reshape the world, reshape reality."

He gave her a surprised look. "Well – yes – I suppose you could say that."

"And when did that seem like a good idea, Solas?" Hermione asked. "In theory it is a good idea. But I don't think it would be as good in reality."

"I agree," The Dread Wolf said as he shook his head. "As I said; I was confused. I was not thinking clearly. The decision was hasty, and I will forever regret it."

He sounded so pained that Hermione leaned over and patted his hand, something that resulted in a shocked look from The Dread Wolf. She ignored it, and gave him a small smile. "The intention, however, was good. That does not excuse everything, I know, but what's done is done, and all one can do is move forward. Corypheus would probably have found a way to break the world, even without your orb. But, since it is with the orb, we have a way to stop him. And since I know how the story ends, we will fix it." She paused for a moment. "And then we will find a way to help you."

"We?" Solas asked. "Are you intending to stay?"

"It seems I am," Hermione said, giving him a confused look. "At least that's what feels right. Why does that feel right?"

"Perhaps this was no accident. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

"Perhaps."

"How did they react?" Solas asked quietly after a long pause. "When you told them?"

It took her a moment to understand what he meant. "I haven't told them. It's not for me to tell. They have to know, though. But, Solas – about the orb – I think it would be better if they just didn't know. I have a very different point of view, and I know your intentions were good. They will not have my point of view. I think it would be better for everyone if they just didn't know."

"I don't know what to say."

"Just tell them who you are, Solas. We'll deal with whatever comes after that."

"I will. Thank you."

"No problem, Dread Wolf."

 


	3. Afraid To Fail

 

 

 

-o-

Solas' revelation created quite the fuss, as one would expect. It created so much fuss that Hermione's story was put on hold. Hermione did not mind, though. She had quite enough with just making sense of everything.

She went back to the roof, needing some peace and quiet, but was interrupted by a feeling – a magical signature – again. A different magical signature this time.

"It's okay. You want to help. Like me."

"Cole," she said, exhaling with relief. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled. "It's okay, Cole. But yes, I do want to help."

"Staying, is it right? Why does it feel right? Smell of books, remember the missing brick, why did I wear those shoes? Book store, foam on my lips, sweet foam, will I ever taste it again?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment. She had been thinking exactly that, remembering the smell of the books in Florish and Blotts, and the missing rock in the pavement outside. Then she had thought about butterbeer, and all the things she was leaving behind if she stayed.

"That's unnerving, Cole," she said quietly. "But I would like your opinion. What do you think?"

He looked at her for a moment. "You're feeling, fearing, fumbling, afraid to fail."

Hermione sighed. "Sounds about right."

"But you know. You know things. You can change things. You have changed things," Cole said. "It's all changing."

"How so?" Hermione asked. "And is that a good thing? The end was already set, and you were going to win. If I change things, won't that be bad? Maybe I'll change things so much that the end will be that you lose?"

"No," Cole said in that soft voice of his. "No, not like that. Not bad."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"How?"

"I don't know."

Hermione had to laugh. "Even so, I do feel better."

"I helped?"

Hermione nodded. "You helped." She paused. "Cole?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I should stay? Do you think it's right?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It feels right. _You_ feel right."

Hermione smiled. "That's strangely comforting. Thank you, Cole." She paused for a moment again. "Can you do something for me?"

"I don't know until you ask."

Hermione smiled again. "Fair enough. I was wondering; could you not make me forget anything? I just hate it when someone messes with my mind."

"But what if it helps?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't want that kind of help. I would rather deal with the reality of it all. Mind magic is something I do not deal well with."

"I made them forget. They forgot. They forgot about me, about everything, and it was my fault. My fault, and they forgot. Too late. I was too late, and they forgot."

Hermione gave Cole a sad look. "Exactly. They forgot about me, and I could never restore their memories. They still live in Australia. At least they are happy there."

"I understand," Cole said softly. "Even if it helps, it doesn't."

Hermione was surprised that she didn't find Cole confusing at all. He made total sense to her. "Exactly, Cole."

"You understand. You fit. You feel right."

"Thank you, Cole. That does make me feel better. A lot better," she said, giving him a warm smile. "I like you, Cole. You make so much more sense than I thought you would. Maybe we can be friends?"

"I would like that. You're soft, selfless, smells like summer."

"And you are good, gentle, kind and caring. You _are_ compassion. The world is better with you in it."

Cole gave her an almost startled look. Probably because he rarely got anything in return. "Thank you," he almost whispered, and then he vanished.

-o-

_I will never get a moment's peace,_ Hermione thought as a new magical signature approached her. _Who is it this time then?_

"Lovely evening, wouldn't you agree?"

She turned to find Dorian standing there. "Do I have some kind of flashy sign that says 'I'M HERE GUYS!' Because everyone seems to find me."

"Am I intruding?"

She smiled. "No. I'm just surprised, that's all. How did you find me?"

"Other than the flashy sign? Varric guessed you were here."

Hermione laughed. "I see. Well, what can I do for you?"

"Satisfy my curiosity, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," she said, and laughed again.

-o-

She was ever so grateful for her post-war paranoia, because that meant she could be in Thedas, but still have a shower. Thank Merlin for wizard tents. She had bought the most expensive one she could find, and it was complete with everything, including a shower.

Thank Merlin for wizard tents, indeed.

She was exhausted by the time she actually pitched the tent later that evening. It was very much worth it, though. Dorian was everything she had expected, and more. He was just lovely.

-o-

Hermione woke up the next morning, surprised that she had even fallen asleep. She got up, showered, and then sat down on the bed, wondering what to do. It was early morning still, and she was surprised over how rested she felt, even if she hadn't slept that many hours.

She wondered where to begin. What to do first.

She knew _everything._ Every detail of what would happen, what they needed to do - everything.

The question was; how much should she tell them? What was the best way to proceed?

_I need to ask someone,_ she thought. _But who?_

She needed someone who would look at the situation without personal opinions getting in the way. She needed an objective view.

And thus, she went in search for Cole.

Hermione disillusioned herself, not wanting to get caught off-guard before she had made up her mind. Or at least have some form of clue as to what she wanted to say.

-o-

She snuck up the stairs to where she knew Cole used to be, and was relieved to see him standing there.

"Hello, Hermione."

Hermione froze in her tracks. Cole was looking right at her, even though she hadn't cancelled the charm yet.

"Yes, I can see you. But it's hard to see you, hard to hear you."

Hermione stepped closer and cancelled the charm. "That's because I made myself invisible. I hope you were the only one who saw me."

"They don't see you. I see you, but they don't."

"Okay, good," Hermione said, sighing in relief. "Or else I would have to begin re-learning what my magic does."

"It's okay. It works. I'm different. I see different, hear different," Cole said, gazing at her for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise. "You want my…advice."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Why me?"

"Because I think you will be able to look at this without having an opinion based on personal gain."

He gazed at her again. "It's a difficult question."

Hermione nodded again. "Yes. That's why I need advice."

"I will try."

"Thank you, Cole," she said, and smiled.

-o-

A while later, Hermione was back in her tent, and she was lost in thought.

"They shouldn't know everything," Cole had said. "It's not good to know everything."

He was right though, wasn't he?

_Maybe,_ she thought. _Probably._

 


	4. Well, I Have a Shoulder

-o-

The following two weeks passed by in a blur. Hermione spent practically every waking moment with the war council, the Inquisitor, Solas, Dorian, or Varric.

She had decided, instead of showing them the game, (she could, after all, considering that she did have more than one way of showing them her memories) to _tell_ them everything. It was quite the process though, but by the end of the two weeks, the story of the 'Inquisitor's Path' had been written down, reviewed, and discussed until everyone was exhausted.

Hermione had decided to leave out the inner circle quests. For now. At least the quests that had no impact on the main story. Like Blackwall's quest. He was no Grey Warden, after all.

She had to talk to him. She just hadn't found the time yet.

-o-

Hermione had a lot of time to observe during those two weeks. Observe the people surrounding her.

Cullen was in pain. A lot of pain. She had to try to do something about that.

Leliana was bitter. Oh, so bitter. Could she do something about that?

Varric was tired, weighed down by guilt. She had to do something about that.

Cassandra, Josephine, and Dorian were not doing _too_ badly, but they were tired as well.

Solas was…well, she could read him like an open book, and yet, he was ever the mystery.

He was also very lovely. And Hermione hated herself for thinking it. Falling in love with The Dread Wolf was not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. He had already broken her heart approximately eleven times in the game. And that heartbreak was most certainly _nothing_ compared to how it would feel in real life.

_Great,_ Hermione thought. _Just bloody great._

-o-

On her sixteenth day in Thedas, Hermione was...well, empty. Just empty. She was struggling with homesickness, with fear of causing the end of the world, with her mixed feelings about The Dread Wolf, and generally just felt like utter crap.

He had called her Lethallan the other day, and Hermione had been sure her heart would explode. He had actually looked somewhat surprised himself, because it was an Elven endearment, and yet he had used it for her.

_Bloody man,_ she thought. _Bloody ancient elven god._

"Something troubling you, my dear? You look like you need a shoulder to cry on."

Hermione looked up from where she was sitting at a table in the main hall, and found Dorian standing there. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

He sat down across the table, and cocked his head. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Hermione gave him a tired, but amused look. "Consider yourself forgiven. You're right, after all."

"Well, I have a shoulder," Dorian said. "I even have two."

Hermione contemplated what to do. Dorian was probably the perfect person for this, but could she trust him? She knew Dorian was trustworthy, but she had been there a mere two weeks. How much loyalty had that earned her?

She could, of course, tell him about her fear of mucking things up, her homesickness, and her general state of mind, but what she _really_ needed to talk about was her complicated state of mind around The Dread Wolf.

"You are wondering whether you can trust me, yes?"

Shrugging, Hermione smiled. "Quite frankly, yes. It's really complicated, actually, because in a way, I know you. I know you are trustworthy, loyal, and generally lovely, and I know I can tell you about my homesickness, about my fear of breaking the world, and generally how much I am panicking about everything. But…well, some things…they are just _too_ secret. And I have only been here for two weeks, after all."

Dorian looked surprised. "That is quite the praise, to the level where I find myself unable to joke about it. Thank you. But yes, I understand. Two weeks is not much time for me to earn your loyalty, I do realise this."

Hermione shook her head. "I was actually more concerned over how much loyalty two weeks had earned _me."_

"Had earned you?"

"Yes," Hermione said, and nodded. _"_ _I_ know _you,_ Dorian, but you do not know me. _You_ have _my_ loyalty. I would never repeat anything you didn't want me to. But as long as _I_ don't have _your_ loyalty, I am not completely sure what to do."

"Again, I find myself unable to joke. This is…unexpected. Also, I am trying to think of what could be so secret that you cannot trust anyone with it. Is it because it could possibly harm someone? If so, I can understand your hesitation."

Hermione shook her head. "Harm someone? No," she said, but then she rolled her eyes. "Well, other than _me_ that is. And only on an emotional level."

"Hermione Granger," Dorian said, raising a sassy eyebrow. "Am I sensing some troubles of the heart?" Hermione's expression apparently said it all, and Dorian continued. "Hah! I knew it. Is it me? It's me isn't it? I have captured your heart with my wit and charm, and now you are hopelessly in love with me."

Hermione had to laugh. "If only. And that is saying something, considering how I am the wrong gender to even stand a chance with you."

Dorian's eyes sparked with interest. "So this huge secret is something as innocent as your…well, love life?"

Hermione nodded. "Basically, yes. Or, more aptly put; my non-existing love life."

"Hermione Granger," Dorian said, still with eyes sparkling with intrigue, "what would you have me do to convince you I am, indeed, worthy of your trust?"

"Promise me."

"Pardon?"

_"_ _Swear_ to me that you will keep my secret."

Dorian looked utterly perplexed. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He stared at her for a moment, but then he inclined his head, and put his hand over his heart. "I give you my whole-heartedly promise, and my oath, that I will not betray your trust. I swear to you, Hermione Granger, that I will keep your secrets."

Hermione gazed at him for a long moment. "Tonight?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You bring the shoulder, I bring the wine? My quarters?"

"Consider me there."

-o-

Later that night, Dorian was nicely settled in her sofa in front of the fireplace, a glass of elf-made wine in his hand, and eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Hermione had arranged the table, and they had a cheese platter, popcorn, biscuits, and all things nice.

"Now," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "I am well aware that the things that should trouble me the most are the end of the world, and how I miss home - believe me, these are real issues I spend far too much time thinking about - but those are logical, reasonable issues, and I can talk quite freely about them."

"I have both shoulders and ears, if you find yourself in need of them."

She smiled. "Thank you. Really. But I would like - right at this point - to talk about the ridiculous, and rather foolish emotional state of my heart."

"My ears and shoulders are ready," Dorian said, but then his eyes glimmered with amusement. "It's Cullen, isn't it? The tormented, brave man. He is rather irresistible."

Hermione laughed. "Well, not that I disagree, but no, it's not Cullen."

"And I was so sure it had to be him," Dorian said, shaking his head. "If not our tormented Templar, then who is it?"

"Solas."

Dorian actually gasped. "Our ancient, elven god? Oh, my."

Hermione sighed. "Indeed. This isn't, however, something that has developed over the past two weeks. Solas has actually broken my heart somewhere around eleven times."

"Pardon?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, there is something I have failed to mention about the Dragon Age games. They have…well, erm, romance options."

"Consider me endlessly intrigued, and equally confused."

Hermione had to laugh. "I'll explain."

-o-

Thirty minutes later, Hermione had explained the dialogue-system, the options, the development in relationships; basically everything related to the Dragon Age companion system.

"This is why I feel like I know you so well," she said before smirking at him. "And let me just admit right away, before you ask, that I have, in fact, seen you bare naked. Not the front, though. But that behind of yours is rather fetching."

Dorian just stared at her for a long moment, and Hermione wondered if she had overstepped, but then he threw his head back and laughed. "Amazing! That's just amazing!"

She grinned at him. "I made a male character for the sole purpose of romancing you. I played through the whole thing – about 90 hours or so of gameplay – just because you are one of my top five favourite characters in the whole Dragon Age series. And let me tell you, that is saying something. I have cursed you for being gay on several occasions. I always play female characters."

Dorian threw his head back and laughed again.

-o-

A little while later, Dorian sipped his wine before cocking his head, looking at her. "Now. Perhaps you would explain to me how our Dread Wolf has broken your heart on several occasions?"

She nodded. "I could do that, or I could show you. This is rather overstepping the lines, and one of the reasons for why you _can't_ tell anyone."

Dorian placed his hand over his heart instantly. "I solemnly swear."

-o-

She explained some more while setting up the pensieve, and then sat down and gave Dorian a sheepish look. "Believe me, this is going to be awkward for me."

The pensieve was actually one of Hermione's creations. Inspired by the cinema, Hermione had worked to find a way to display the memories instead of diving into the pensieve itself. She had eventually found a way, making the pensieve into a magical projector, more or less. It was rather neat.

She blushed furiously as her memory of the television screen appeared in the air in front them, and they saw the character. (The character she had created that looked dangerously like Hermione herself. She had spent almost two hours creating it, and the resemblance was uncanny.)

"Oh, my," she heard Dorian whisper as he gazed at the character. "I'll say."

"Indeed," Hermione replied, and focused, putting on display the memory from the first time Solas flirted with her.

-o-

Dorian's eyes were completely fixed on the memories the whole time. He didn't say a word, the only sounds that could be heard from him was a sigh every now and then, his breath hitching on several occasions, and she could see a genuine mournful expression when the cut scene in the glen ended.

They watched Leliana tell the Inquisitor about how they failed to find him, and then the memory stopped.

Dorian just stared blankly into the empty air.

"And how many times did you say you put yourself through this?" he eventually whispered.

She sighed. "Eleven, I think."

Dorian turned to look at her. "Not that I am judging, but _why_ would you even do that to yourself?"

Hermione gave him an amused smile as she shook her head. "Well, to mend my foolish, broken heart, I started the romance over again."

"I think The Dread Wolf just broke my heart as well. I did not know he was so…passionate. I always thought he was rather dull."

Hermione nodded. "That was what I thought at first as well. Turns out I was wrong."

"Wrong would be an understatement," Dorian said, but then he gave her a puzzled look. "How did you know he is The Dread Wolf? I saw no mention of it."

Hermione had prepared herself for this question, and told him a semi-truth. "It was revealed after the game ended."

She hoped Dorian wouldn't ask any follow-up questions, and supressed the urge to sigh in relief when he didn't. "Ah, I see," was all he said. "Quite the plot-twist."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. I was shell-shocked for weeks. I kind of still am." Shaking her head, she continued. "Anyway, this is why I have all kinds of mixed feelings right now."

"You know what?" Dorian asked. "That; I completely understand."

-o-

Telling Dorian about it did not solve the problem in any way, but it did help, nevertheless. She felt better, and she'd had a lovely evening.

_And I really believe he won't tell anyone,_ she thought as she downed a sober-up potion, and climbed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.

 


	5. Ma Serannas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5! Yay!
> 
> So, elven - I love elven! But it's not exactly a complete language, so I have to use the information available xD
> 
> It's a strange ship, isn't it? Solas/Hermione, I mean xD but I love writing Hermione, and I needed to get over my broken heart xD (Dammit, Solas)
> 
> As a last piece of information, I have already finished this story, but it needs editing xD Basically it means I won't abandon it due to lack of inspiration or anything!
> 
> Disclaimer: ain't mine!

 

 

 

 

-o-

She woke up with a strange feeling in her gut. Something was…wrong. Something was…off. Just off.

_I'm not awake,_ she thought as she looked around. _This is a dream._

The dream was unnervingly realistic, however, and it took Hermione a moment to realise why.

She was in the Fade.

And the Fade looked like her childhood home.

_Oh, bloody hell,_ she thought. _Am I about to meet my first demon?_

She entered the living room, and heard sounds from the kitchen.

Hermione's heart froze with pain and fear as she realised that not only was she about to face a demon, she would probably be faced with a demon taking the form of someone she cared about.

Her mother, probably.

_Oh, gods,_ she thought. _Oh, gods, oh please no._

"Hermione dear, is that you?"

Hermione's knees almost buckled at the sound of her mother's voice.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione slammed up every Occlumency shield she had, locking away every feeling, every tear, everything.

"Get out," she said with an icy cold voice as she entered the kitchen. _"Get out."_

"Hermione, dear, what is wrong?" the demon asked, looking genuinely hurt. "What are you saying?"

"I know what you are. _Get out."_

The demon stared at her for a long moment, but then realised it had lost. It didn't change shape, however. "Not so easily fooled, I see. But, think about it. You can have whatever you want. I could...send you back. Or you could stay here, with your mother and father whom you so sorely miss."

Hermione's shields almost faltered, but she steeled herself. "No. I will not make a deal with you. Not now, not ever. _Get out."_

Everything happened rather fast after that. The demon changed shape in less than a second, and then it attacked.

"Expulso!" Hermione yelled as she flicked her wand.

And then, sliding down to the floor next to the million pieces of demon, Hermione broke down and cried.

-o-

Somewhere, in the midst of her grief-stricken mind, a small voice appeared. _Solas,_ it said. _Solas, I need you. Please be asleep, please be in the Fade, please hear me._

"Hermione?" a voice sharp with worry said, and then there was a moment of silence before the voice spoke again, softly this time. "Lethallan," it said. "Lethallan, where are we?"

She felt soft hands on her shoulders, but couldn't even find it in her to move from her position with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. "My childhood home," she managed between hiccups. "A demon – my mother – I can't – I just can't."

"Let me take you away from this place, Lethallan," Solas' soft voice said, and then she felt warm arms embrace her.

She felt as their surroundings changed. The ground was soft – grass, she realised – and the smell was different, it smelled of flowers, of summer. She felt something against her back – a tree from the feel of it – and Solas next to her, pulling her close so she could lean her head on his shoulder.

Her tears seemed to be never-ending. She wasn't sobbing any longer, but she just sat there with tears trickling down her cheeks, feeling the warmth of Solas' body.

"This is the place I come to think. My safe place, if you will," Solas said softly as he stroked her back gently. "Nothing will bother you here." He paused for a moment. "Ir abelas, da'len. I wish your first experience of the Fade had been different."

Hermione had been practically _obsessed_ with the elven language from Dragon Age, and knew _every_ word and phrase said in the game. "Ma melava halani, Lethallin," she whispered, and felt Solas freeze for a moment. "Sahlin emma eth. Ma serannas." _You helped me, Lethallin. Now I am safe. Thank you._

The Dread Wolf was very still, for a very long moment, but then he relaxed again. "You continue to surprise me. You are from a different universe, and yet, you speak elven."

The puzzled tone in his voice was rather amusing, and some of Hermione's grief lifted, and she opened her eyes as she pulled her knees closer to her chest and relaxed with her head on Solas' shoulder. "My knowledge is very limited, believe me," she said quietly. "But it is such a beautiful language, and I have learned whatever I could of it."

"Melana en athim las enaste, da'len," Solas said quietly. _Now let humility grant favour, little one._

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Ma serannas, Solas." _Thank you, Solas._

"Impressive."

Hermione shook her head softly. "I'm not being humble. It's the truth. I would love to learn more, though."

"I would be honoured to teach."

Hermione had to laugh. "This is one of those moments where I wonder what is happening to the world."

"How so?"

"An ancient, elven God just told me he would be honoured to teach me. It should be the other way around."

"It should not," Solas simply said in a soft voice.

-o-

They sat in silence for a while, and Hermione's tears had finally run dry. "So, about those demons," she said dryly, "I just want to point out that they are assholes."

The surprised, but genuine laugh that came from Solas surprised Hermione just as much. Probably even more.

"Aptly put," he said with mirth in his voice. "Aptly put, Hermione." There was a long pause before he spoke again. "What did it offer you?"

Hermione sighed as she tilted her head back and looked up at the green branches. "To send me back," she said quietly, and she felt Solas' arm tighten around her. "Or to stay in the Fade, in my childhood home, with my parents. It took the shape of my mother."

"Ir abelas, Lethallan," he said, and paused for a moment. "Your parents...are they..."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Yes, they are. But...they don't remember me. They don't know they have a daughter."

"What happened?"

"The short version? I'm muggle-born, which means I am a witch, but my parents are non-magical. There are three kinds of witches and wizards. Purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns. The purebloods do _not_ approve of muggle-borns, and when a pro-pureblood, evil megalomaniac decided to take over the world, I was, as you might imagine, a target. I was actually one of the top three most wanted people in the whole bloody world. Because - well, long story. Let's take that later. Anyway, I was a target, and thus, my parents were. But they wouldn't leave. Not without me. But I couldn't leave, I couldn't go into hiding, because - well, this will not sound humble - because I was crucial in the war. The evil megalomaniac would have won if not for my two best friends and I. As I said, it's a long story. But, my parents wouldn't leave, and I couldn't leave with them, nor could I stay and protect them. So...I...I erased their memories. And I...made them think that they lived on the other side of the world, and had no daughter. I was going to restore their memories after the war, but it lasted too long, and it was too late when I got to them. The memory-removal was permanent. They don't remember me. And it was all my fault."

"I'm sorry, Lethallan."

"So am I."

"It must have been difficult to decline."

She considered this for a moment, and realised she hadn't even considered taking the offer. Not even for a second. "Actually, it wasn't," she said quietly. "Because the option of accepting didn't even cross my mind."

"Not many people are able to do such a thing," Solas said in a strange voice. "Especially when the demon tries to affect your mind, to 'place a suggestion', if you will."

Hermione thought about that for a moment. Had the demon tried to affect her mind? Yes, she realised, it had tried. But she had been Occluding, and it had not succeeded. "Hm," she said, "it did try, now that I think about it."

"Try? It did not succeed?"

Hermione shook her head. "I Occluded. I used Occlumency. Which basically means I shielded my mind."

"How does it work?" Solas asked, and Hermione could hear the spark of interest in his voice.

"Can you enter someone's mind?"

"Yes."

"How about I show you?" Hermione said as she sat up and moved so she sat in front of him, cross-legged on the ground. "It would be interesting to see if I can block you."

He frowned, and Hermione inwardly cursed him for being able to make her swoon by frowning.

"As I have understood it, you do not like mind-magic."

She shrugged. "I don't. I really don't. But I trust you."

His eyes widened in surprise. "I…thank you."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Of course I trust you, Solas. Now, try."

He gazed at her for a long moment – contemplating what to do, she realised – but then, she felt it. A soft nudge in her mind. A nudge that didn't even affect her outer shield – the weakest shield – not even a little.

"You aren't really trying, are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you certain of this, Lethallan?" Solas asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, like he was searching for something in her expression. "Because no, I am not really trying."

"Solas," she said, sighing, "if I am to stay here, I need to know what I am capable of. I need to know if my magic will hold against the magic in this world. So, yes, I am certain. I would rather try this with you instead of the next demon that decides to visit me."

He gazed at her for another long moment, again like he was searching for something in her expression. "Very well," he said, and the soft nudge was suddenly not a soft nudge any longer. The force took her by surprise, and before she knew it, her outer shield crumbled.

She could feel Solas' emotions, she realised, because there was a wave of sadness, of worry, when her shield shattered.

_Do you know I can feel what you feel?_ Hermione asked him in her mind, and felt a wave of surprise. _You took me by surprise, thus my shield went down._

_She is talking to me,_ she heard him say, and the confusion was audible, even in her mind, _how is she talking to me?_

_Well, she has a visitor in her mind, and our minds are connected, thus we can speak,_ she replied, and felt another wave of surprise. _Yes, I can hear you think,_ she continued. _But I would rather not, because now that you know I can hear your thoughts, you will begin thinking about all the things you don't want me to hear._

She felt a flare of fear, so she pictured a sound-proof bubble around his thoughts. _There. Now I can't hear you. Don't worry._

"Demons might take you by surprise."

_Yes,_ Hermione replied in her mind. _But the shield you just crumbled is just my outer shield. It's the weakest one. I have a whole lot of defence mechanisms in my mind, Solas. I'm not worried yet._

He did manage to give her second shield a run for its money, but the shield held.

_Solas,_ she told him in her mind, _I'm sorry to say, but if that's the best you got, you will never be able to do any damage in my mind at all. No offense._

"That is a good thing, if I am to judge." Solas replied, and she felt the strongest push against her shield yet.

_That is a good thing, yes. What is less good,_ she said, and her Professor-persona took over as she continued, _is that your mind is not shielded at all. The harder you push, the more you let down your guard._

The push in her mind eased, and she felt Solas' mind close down.

_Well, those shields are made of paper and glass,_ she thought to herself. _I wonder if he can learn Occlumency. Or some of the methods, at least._

_Is that considered as a strong mind-defence in this world?_

"Yes," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I would say that."

She sent him a wave of amusement, and felt a flare of surprise from him.

_I wonder if you could learn Occlumency,_ she told him in her mind. _And Legilimency._

"Legilimency?"

_Yes. That would be the opposite of Occlumency. It allows me to enter your mind, and if your defences aren't strong enough, I can basically do whatever I bloody well please. Not that I would ever do such a thing, of course._

"Show me what you can do, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't help the flare of surprise that reached even him. "I'll repeat what you said earlier," she said. "Are you certain?"

"I believe you when you say you would never do such a thing, Lethallan."

She thought about it for a moment. _I would like to test his defences,_ she thought to herself. "Alright. Let's test it."

It was Hermione's turn to worry, because The Dread Wolf's mind-defences were nothing to brag about. It was different in this world though, so he would probably not meet someone able to mess with his mind in this way.

_I'm sorry,_ she said in her mind, and slammed up her outer shield, casting him from her mind. _Legilimens,_ she thought next, and entered Solas' mind.

_So,_ she said to him in his mind. _If you'll allow me, I would like to find out if you can learn Occlumency. Your shield is similar to mine, but – sorry – weak._

"You have not even tried to break it."

_I know,_ she told him. _Again, sorry._

She conjured an image of herself in her mind, made the image snap her fingers, and the shield crumbled to dust.

All of Solas' emotions washed over her, and when she saw flashes of images and memories, she reacted instantly, blocking everything and slammed up a shield of her own inside his mind.

_Sorry! Sorry!_ Hermione said in his mind, focused, and put his shield, his memories, his thoughts – without looking, hearing, or feeling – back together. Then, she lowered the shield she had placed in his mind, and withdrew.

She had never seen The Dread Wolf look so shocked before.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I did not mean to offend you in any way."

"I asked, did I not?" he eventually said as he looked at her with an almost sharp expression. "I only pray you will never switch sides in this war."

Hermione gave him a startled look. "I am going to ignore that comment," she said, giving him an annoyed look. "And I am going to forget you ever said that."

Solas gave her an equally startled look. "Forgive me. That was not what I meant - "

"I know, Solas. You are forgiven," she said, giving him a small smile. "And I think I've had enough of emotional distress for one night."

He nodded. "I understand. I will return you to sleep, if you wish. Normal sleep."

She gave him a surprised look. "No, that was not what I meant. Actually, I would like to ask you something that I've been curious about for a long time."

He gave her a puzzled-sexy-frown. "Yes?"

She cocked her head, looking at him. "You are The Dread Wolf, and the statues of you are wolves. Literal wolves. So I'm wondering; can you turn into a wolf?"

_"That_ is something you have been curious about for a long time?" he asked, still sporting the puzzled-sexy-frown.

"Yes. So, can you?"

"Of course."

"You realise there is nothing 'of course' about this for me? So you can change into a wolf. Do you like being a wolf?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I apologise," he said, and then he sighed before continuing in a soft voice. "I am rarely caught off-guard, Hermione. And having lived for as long as I have, being caught off-guard is not something I find easy to shake off. But I do apologise. As for the wolf, yes I can change into a wolf. And yes, I do enjoy it. It's a form of freedom in it, if that makes any sense to you. Why is this a question you have pondered?"

"Well, originally it was because I was just genuinely curious. I know little of how ancient gods work, and I am generally a curious being."

"Originally? It changed?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not changed, perhaps, but there is an addition."

"And what would that be?"

She smiled. "I'll just show you."

Hermione got up from the ground, took a step back, smiled at Solas, and smoothly, elegantly changed into her Animagus form.

A wolf.

A beautiful wolf in Hermione's honest opinion. She was light grey, almost white, soft fur, and golden eyes.

She _loved_ her Animagus form.

And she _loved_ being a wolf. The heightened senses, the speed she could run in, the feeling of the forest floor underneath her paws, the thrill of chasing birds – although she felt bad for the birds the times she got slightly _too_ excited, something that resulted in death for said birds – and not to forget; howling. She loved howling. She could let out so many emotions, and the sound was so powerful that it could be heard miles away.

Being a wolf was freedom.

She met Solas' eyes. Solas' awestruck eyes. He was looking at her in shocked awe, but then his expression changed, and the shocked awe changed into something else, something that made his eyes shine and his expression open up, like he had let down his guard.

"Incredible," he whispered as he sat up and leaned forward, studying her.

She saw him lift his hand, but haltered, and lowered it again.

Being a wolf was a strange thing. Being a wolf blurred the lines, changed everything, and it most certainly changed how she interacted with people, and how they interacted with her.

Being a wolf meant that people brushed her fur, scratched her between her ears, and generally treated her as a cuddly, soft animal.

And strangely, she was fine with it.

And right now, Solas wanted to touch her, brush his hands through her fur, and probably make sure that it was, in fact, real.

But he had no idea if he was allowed to do so.

Hermione huffed, and stepped closer, nudging his arm with her snout. _You're allowed,_ she tried to tell him. _It's fine, go ahead._

He looked uncertain, but lifted a hand, and she head-butted his palm, resulting in a smile widening on Solas' face.

"Incredible," he whispered again as he brushed his hand through the thick fur between her ears. "This is why you asked if I like being a wolf, is it not?" Hermione nodded, and the smile widened even more on his face.

Hermione bounced around a bit, and Solas actually grinned at her. "I'll give you a ten second head start," he said, and Hermione realised she was about to be chased by The Dread Wolf. She stared at him, frozen in spot for a moment, and watched as Solas changed.

The Dread Wolf was magnificent. He was black, large, with piercing blue eyes, and a rather intimidating row of white, sharp teeth.

Their surroundings changed. _A forest!_ Hermione thought, and the wolf in her took over, she growled at Solas, and ran.

A few seconds later, she heard a howl somewhere behind her as The Dread Wolf took off after her.

Being a wolf was freedom.

 


	6. It's Only the End of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hapter 6! Woop Woop!
> 
> So, I'm wondering - have anyone read anything with Solas/Hermione before? Because I have yet to find anything xD
> 
> Oh, and by the way - I've written half a ton of these stories, and mostly I call my inquisitor Lala, which I have replaced with the default name here. But if you suddenly see the name Lala - please inform me, because then I have missed it! The inquisitor is supposed to be a human female, but since I mostly play elf, I my mind may have slipped there as well. Basically, if you see that I have messed up, feel free to mention it in a review or pm!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine, yo!

 

-o-

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly energized. The Fade did not drain energy apparently, even if she had spent at least two hours running around the forest with The Dread Wolf.

She had even killed a bird, resulting in her coming to a screeching halt, staring at the bird with sheepish eyes.

The Dread Wolf had laughed. _Laughed._ More like snickered, of course, but she was very well aware that he was _really_ laughing on the inside. She had growled impatiently at him, and he had given her a glittery look before pouncing on her.

Hermione had forgotten all about the bird, throwing herself into combat with The Dread Wolf.

_What is the world coming to?_ Hermione thought as she got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. _What in the name of Merlin is the world coming to?_

-o-

Solas gave her a glittery smile when she entered the war room, and there was this light in his eyes that left Hermione rather breathless.

_Don't fall in love with The Dread Wolf, indeed,_ she thought as she smiled back. _How is that working out for you, hm?_

-o-

As every day, they began with Hermione choosing missions on the war table, and then Hermione sighed.

"So, I had a demon visiting me last night."

Cullen gave her a sharp look. "And how did that turn out?"

"She passed with flying colours, as they say," Solas said when Hermione found it difficult to locate her voice, and she gave him a grateful look. He met her eyes. "I could explain, if you find it…difficult."

Hermione just nodded. "Please."

"How do _you_ know the tale, then?" Cullen asked, giving Solas a sharp look as well.

"She called out to me, in fact. I was rather surprised," Solas said, giving Hermione a glance before continuing. "I found her sitting on the floor of the Fade-version of her childhood home, surrounded by pieces of demon. The demon took the shape of her…estranged mother."

"I didn't know how to get out," Hermione said quietly. "I've never been to the Fade. And I was somewhat…distressed. I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to call for Solas. It worked, luckily."

"That must have been difficult," Cullen said in a softer voice. "What did it…what did it offer you?"

Hermione just looked at Solas, and he turned to Cullen. "To return her to her world, or to stay there, with her parents. Live a life with her loved ones."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Cullen said quietly. "Even I recognise the difficult decision you were faced with."

"That is, in fact, wrong," Solas said. "As she did not consider the option of accepting the offer. The demon then tried to enter her mind, to make her more…agreeable, as demons tend to do. It did not succeed, however."

"Why? How?"

"Hermione is able to shield her mind, blocking anyone from affecting her in any way," Solas said before looking at no one and nothing, and his voice was somewhat strained as he continued. "To test her shields – there will be more demons in the future after all – I tried to break down her defences, something I was completely unable to do."

"It's called Occlumency," Hermione said quietly. "I have trained my mind for fifteen years or so. It is strong magic, and apparently very effective in this world."

"Wait," Dorian said, "an ancient elven god was unable to break down your defences?"

"Yes, thank you, Dorian," Solas quipped, "for pointing that out in such a subtle way."

Dorian gave Solas a somewhat startled look. "Are you _sassing_ me, Dread Wolf? What is the world coming to?"

Solas smirked at him, and Hermione had to laugh when seeing Dorian's perplexed expression. "I keep asking myself the same, Dorian."

"He does have a point, though," Cullen said. "If Solas was unable to break your defences, Hermione, I imagine the demons will find it difficult to sway you." He paused for a moment. "I admit I am relieved. Your magic is different, and I have thought about what effect demons would have on you. Good job, Hermione. Good job."

Hermione just gave Cullen a small smile.

-o-

"You can choose to wait with the demon army, and go to Halamshiral first, or you can travel to the Western Approach first."

"Do you fight, Hermione?"

_Oh, shit,_ Hermione thought. She would be joining them, wouldn't she? _And it would be best if I did. Oh, bloody hell._

She looked at the Inquisitor . "Yes. Yes I do. Although I have not tested my magic in this world yet."

"You did, however, deal with that demon in a rather effective way."

"True," Hermione said, looking at Solas before turning to the Inquisitor. "You are going to ask me to come, aren't you? Because I _should_ come, considering how I know that Fade area like the back of my hand. Not to mention the Western Approach. Or any zone, for that matter. Merlin's beard, I'm so glad you have dealt with Crestwood already."

She looked up, and realised everyone was staring at her. Blushing furiously, she gave them a sheepish smile. "Am I getting ahead of myself? Didn't you intend to ask if I would come with you?"

Trevelyan gave her an amused look. "No, you were right about that. I'm just wondering why we haven't made you Inquisitor yet."

The panicked look on Hermione's face resulted in everyone laughing.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, giving them an amused look. "Lovely. Anyway, I'm not about to embark on facing a huge nightmare-demon without having actually tested my magic on something less… _lethal_ first. The Western Approach will do fine for that though, I suppose. Not to mention there is a chance you will do better without me. You have all worked together for a long time, and I am rather new at this."

"Western Approach it is, then. Scout Harding is already on her way there, so we can leave whenever."

Hermione had a sudden realisation. "Oh, Gods," she said, staring at the Inquisitor. "How long is the journey? Are we travelling by horse? Oh, Gods, I have no idea how to ride a horse."

Trevelyan laughed. "Western Approach? Six days, or so. And yes, we will be travelling by horse."

Hermione stared at the Inquisitor for a long moment, but then she sighed. "Give me a week? Is that acceptable? I will bloody well learn how to ride a horse. Wait, I don't have a horse."

"The stable is full of horses," Trevelyan replied. "And most of them are without specific owners."

"I suggest you take your time," Solas added, "Perhaps you will find a horse you connect with."

"I'm doomed," Hermione said, but gave them an amused look. "But, hey, it's only the end of the world, isn't it?"

 


	7. Da'mi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hapter 7! Yay? xD
> 
> I just want to apologise in advance, because I seriously do not know how to ride a horse (I'm allergic) which again means I'm playing a guessing game here. Generally - just bear with me!
> 
> Also, bear with me with the tents. I've had way too much fun using 'modern technology' in Thedas. So those tents? That's happening xD
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine, sadly!

 

-o-

Hermione entered the stables early the next morning, wanting some peace and quiet – taking her time, as Solas said.

She walked around, chatting softly with the intimidating animals while wondering how many bones she would break during the following week.

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione gasped as a rusty sword poked her side. "Please don't stab me."

The _extremely unnerving_ Bog Unicorn neighed softly, and Hermione realised he wasn't trying to murder her. She stared at the beast for a moment, and was surprised to find a spark in the animal's eyes. A spark of intelligence.

"There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" she said as she moved closer. The beast neighed softly again, and Hermione reached out a hand to stroke its muzzle.

And that was how Hermione ended up with the Bog Unicorn as her horse of choice.

-o-

Two days later, Hermione's behind was sore, and she ached _everywhere._ She praised magic, though. A cushioning charm and a stabilizing charm was her salvation.

Not to mention a horse that totally got her.

"You need a proper name," Hermione told the Bog Unicorn as they walked down the road from Skyhold. "Wouldn't you agree?"

The Bog Unicorn neighed happily, and Hermione laughed. "I'm glad you agree. I'll think about it, and come up with some suggestions so you can help me choose. Sounds good?"

The Bog Unicorn neighed in agreement.

-o-

By day four, Hermione was able to pull off something that looked like gallop, if nothing else. She was making fast progress, mostly thanks to her wonderful mount. "You are perfect, Da'mi," she said softly, and the horse neighed softly back.

'Da'mi' was an elven endearment, meaning 'little blade'. They had yet to agree on a name, so Hermione had taken to calling the horse by different endearments. She liked Da'mi, though. Hermione liked endearments, and 'little blade' was just so apt.

"Mr Bog Unicorn?" she said, and the horse neighed. "How about we just go for Da'mi? Little blade? It's apt, wouldn't you agree?"

And that was how the Bog Unicorn was named Da'mi.

-o-

By day six, Hermione had broken no bones, could gallop, and the intensity of the training had created quite the connection between her and Da'mi, and he just…got her. He _understood_ her, and recognised her commands, whether it was a nudge in the side, or a slight pull at the reins.

He also understood voice commands. The horse was bloody intelligent, because Hermione had absently asked; "Could you just walk a bit carefully down the road while I fix this strap? I can't watch the road, because it's behind me. Could you watch the road?"

Da'mi had neighed, and to her surprise, begun walking gently down the road while Hermione was fixing the strap.

-o-

"Hello, Hermione," Trevelyan said as Hermione entered the war room on day seven. "How are you? I have barely seen you the last week."

Hermione smiled. "I'm fine, thank you." The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, and Hermione laughed. "I mean it. I'm fine. Suffering from homesickness, it's the end of the world, and I'm terrified that me showing up here will end in death and destruction for us all, but other than that; I'm fine."

Trevelyan gave her a shocked look. "If that is your definition of 'fine', I don't want to know what you would call 'bad'."

Hermione laughed again as she shook her head. "I've had worse. The homesickness is actually less severe than what I would have thought, and although it is the end of the world, we have every tool for stopping said end." Hermione paused, realising she was telling the truth. She _was_ fine, strange as it was. "It's strange," she said quietly, "but I don't feel out of place here. Before I got here, I did. Feel out of place, I mean. I kept looking for a purpose I had no idea what was. I was...discontent. But now...I don't know...it feels right. I don't know how to explain it."

The Inquisitor gazed at her for a moment. "Perhaps Cole is right when he says you belong here," she said before rolling her eyes. "Who am I kidding, Cole is _always_ right. Honestly, Hermione, I think he's right. You belong here." Smiling softly, she continued. "And I hope - and very much so - that you are here to stay."

Hermione realised how much it meant to hear those words, and gave the woman a warm smile. "Thank you, Evelyn. That means more than you can imagine."

-o-

Two days later, they were about to embark on their journey to the Western Approach, and Hermione had very mixed feelings about the whole thing. She was dreading the whole thing, and yet, she was excited.

'They' were the Inquisitor, Blackwall, Dorian, Solas, and Hermione. Hermione was _really_ happy that she was an addition to the group, and not replacing anyone.

Hermione had created an enchanted bag for each of the companions, and she had also brought two tents – two, in case one broke somehow – and they would be using the biggest tent. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, living room, and a storage room that Hermione had turned into a bedroom. Blackwall would be sleeping in the living room, and that left the others with one bedroom each.

_Thank Merlin for magic,_ Hermione thought as she looked at her small pouch containing potions, tents, food, books, clothes, and basically everything one would need for a comfortable life. Maybe the journey wouldn't be so bad. _Famous last words, probably,_ Hermione thought as she headed towards the stables to get Da'mi ready.

 


	8. Da'fen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8!
> 
> So, Hermione is a total pro at horse riding, wouldn't you agree? xD
> 
> Anyway, let's head for the Western Approach, shall we?
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine!

 

-o-

"Are you quite certain you have never ridden a horse before?"

Hermione looked at Dorian as he rode up next to her. "Completely certain."

Dorian shook his head. "So what you are saying is that it took you one week to reach this skill-level."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I could never have done it without Da'mi, though. He just…gets me."

Dorian's eyes widened as they heard Solas burst out laughing from behind them. "What is _happening_ to the world," he whispered, and Hermione had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing as well.

"Did I hear you correctly?" Solas said as he rode up on the other side of Hermione. "You named him Da'mi?"

Hermione patted the horse. "Yup! We agreed that it was a good name. Right, Da'mi?"

The horse neighed, and Solas burst out laughing again – Hermione had to avert her eyes from the sight of Dorian's shocked expression – and kept her eyes on Solas, giving him an amused smile.

"How…apt," Solas said, shaking his head in amusement.

"It seems I am missing out on something here," Dorian said, raising an eyebrow. "Elven, yes?"

Solas gave Dorian an amused look. "It means 'Little Blade'. It's often used as an endearment."

Dorian's eyes lit up in amused understanding. "How…apt, indeed."

_They are talking,_ Hermione thought. _And friendly at that. Let's hope this is something that will continue._

-o-

They were chatting happily, until they heard a roar.

"Bear!" Trevelyan yelled. "Quickly! Dismount!"

_Wow, bears run fast,_ Hermione thought as the bear burst out of the trees, heading with lightning speed towards Evelyn. _She's not going to make it,_ was her next thought, and reacted more on instinct than anything else.

_"Expulso!"_ Hermione yelled, and the bear exploded in a rain of blood and gore.

The Inquisitor stopped in her tracks, and there was a long moment of complete silence as Hermione observed Evelyn. Her foot was still on the saddle, the other foot on the ground, and she was just frozen like that, staring at Hermione.

_That's a piece of bear,_ Hermione thought absently, looking at the chunck of bear in Evelyn's hair. _Oh, gods, you did that._

She flicked her wand several times, and eventually, the Inquisitor was - well, almost at least - clean.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said as she dismounted and walked over to Evelyn. "I just reacted. I could have used a less...messy spell."

The Inquisitor gave her a surprised look. "Can't say I enjoy bathing in bear-guts, but I definitely prefer that over death by bear. Thank you."

Hermione flicked a hand as she noticed something that might just possibly be piece of bear-brain on Evelyn's shoulder. "Any time," she said with amused eyes. "On a different note, _damn_ that bear was fast. I knew they could run, but that was almost impressive."

Evelyn just laughed, and Hermione grinned as she mounted again.

-o-

It was getting dark, so they decided to find a place to camp.

"Actually, inside the woods here would be perfect," Hermione said. "We'll be hidden from everything."

"Yes, and everything will be hidden for us as well," Dorian quipped. "Bears, among other things."

Hermione laughed. "Believe me, we will be completely safe. I spent eight months or so living in a tent in the woods, finding a new place every few days so we wouldn't be found." Dorian gave her a puzzled look, and she waved a hand dismissively. "Long story. The point is that I had eight months to perfect my wards. Nothing will find us."

-o-

They found a place to make camp, and that was when Hermione realised she hadn't told them about the Wizarding tent she had brought with her. She had brought _two,_ in fact, in case one of them should break somehow. Not that she thought that would happen, because her tents were the most expensive ones she could find, which meant they were basically small houses.

After months in that shabby, small tent she had shared with Harry and Ron when they searched for Horcruxes, Hermione had made sure to buy proper camping equipment. _Never again_ would she sleep in that kind of tent again.

"You don't have to pitch the tent," Hermione said, gesturing at the roll on the ground. "I have brought – well – a bigger tent."

They all stopped to look at her, apparently waiting for her to clarify what she was talking about.

Hermione put her enchanted pouch on the ground, flicked a hand, summoning the Wizarding tent, and with a few more flicks of her hand, the tent was pitched.

"I thought you said you had a bigger tent?"

"It's bigger than it looks like," Hermione said, smiling at Dorian. "It's a Wizarding tent. They are rather amazing. Take a look inside." Dorian just looked at her, so she rolled her eyes. "Just look inside."

-o-

A few minutes later, they were all in the tent, and Hermione was just standing in the doorway to the kitchen, observing the awestruck people as they took in their surroundings.

The tent had two floors, and they were currently standing in the living room – a big room with a fireplace, soft, two comfortable sofas, two armchairs and a small table in the corner – next to the big bookshelf, of course – and a big coffee table. Everyone would have more than enough room to be comfortable, to say the least.

Other than the living room, the ground floor had a big kitchen – kitchen island and all – and a small bedroom. Upstairs consisted of four bedrooms and a bathroom – a huge bathroom, in fact, with a big marble tub, a shower with two shower heads, and of course a toilet.

The best part? Everything worked. The tent had electricity, hot water, a toilet that flushed, and food in the fridge. The latter had been quite the challenge – keeping the fridge working while rolled up in her bag – but she had managed to make it work.

Thank Merlin for magic. And thank Merlin for the fact that someone had achieved – this had been quite the breakthrough – to make electricity run on magic. The bathroom was all magical as well. An aquamenti charm conjured water, and an adjustable heating charm made the dream of a hot shower a reality.

The bathroom even had a ton of fluffy, self-cleaning towels. The tent was basically pure luxury.

"I'm just going to go outside and place some wards."

No one seemed to register her words, nor her presence, so Hermione gave them an amused smile before exiting the tent.

-o-

Casting wards was as simple as breathing – several months of casting wards on a paranoid level had given her quite a lot of practice – and Hermione always found herself lost in thought while casting wards. The feeling when the wards fell in place gave her a sense of peace, and she had come to love casting wards.

"Protego Duo," she said softly, and watched as the magic – a shimmering white – knitted itself together, creating a bubble over them. "Protego Horribilis." A second bubble – violet this time – shimmered in place. "Protego Totalum." Next, she raised her wand towards the sky. "Protego Maxima." A light blue flare of magic burst from her wand, knitting a shimmering light blue bubble with the other wards.

She paused for a moment before casting the two final wards. She always got slightly emotional when casting them.

It reminded her of the battle of Hogwarts. She would never forget the sight of all the teachers casting wards, and the sight of the wards as they knitted together in a display of gold, silver, and light. It was like bursts of lightning and flame when they merged, eventually creating a practically impregnable magical protection barrier around them.

It had taken Voldemort _and_ his army to break it down. They would be safe.

She watched the wards as they slowly knitted themselves together, completely lost in thought.

"Remarkable."

Hermione turned around, finding Solas standing there with awe in his eyes. Had he been watching her placing wards? Apparently he had.

"Protective enchantments," she simply said, smiling. "It would take an army of mages to break through now. Of course, they would have to find us first."

"It's beautiful."

"It is, isn't it?"

He came over to stand next to her, gazing at the sight of the wards. "It is indescribable."

"I fought in a war," Hermione said softly. "This reminds me of the night we won. And how many we lost."

Solas gazed at her for a moment. "You told me of this. The first night in the Fade."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "I did. It was the same as always. An evil megalomaniac tries to take over the world. Darkness versus light. Light won in the end, but the victory was clouded by grief."

"How old were you?" Solas asked after a moment of silence.

"Eighteen when it ended."

"And when it began?"

"Twelve. Although it didn't _really_ start until I was fifteen. But I was in the middle of it from the beginning. The explanation why is a long and complicated story, but my best friend was the only one who could defeat the megalomaniac, a responsibility he carried on his shoulders from age eleven. A heavy burden for a child, and not a burden he should carry alone. The megalomaniac – Voldemort as he called himself – had split his soul into seven pieces, hiding them around the world, and he could not die before all the pieces were destroyed. So we travelled, Harry, Ron, and I, searching for the pieces. Every day for several months I cast these wards, in pure terror, of course, because Voldemort was hunting us – his entire army was hunting us – thus, at this point, casting these wards are as easy as breathing. We eventually managed to destroy all the pieces of his soul, and the final battle took place in our school. The school where we learned about magic. A ancient, magical castle. I will never forget the sight of all my Professors, everyone fighting for the light, grief stricken and grave, standing in the courtyard, casting these wards, and how it knitted itself together over the huge castle. Nor will I forget when the army began destroying the wards. It took hundreds of people, and every spell was a small explosion on the outside of the ward, like a promise of death and darkness. They broke it, in the end. And then they charged. And then, we won. And then…silence. Silence as we searched for the casualties – dead friends, broken bodies, lying in the rubble where someone had shattered a stone wall, a pool of blood where the werewolves had attacked, or just still – killed by a simple spell – not a mark on their bodies. They say the dead look like they are sleeping, but that's not true, is it? The moment life leaves the body, they change. They are…grey. Lifeless skin and…limp. In a completely different way from someone sleeping." She paused for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. "I still have no idea how many I killed that night. It was all a blur."

"Ir abelas, da'len," Solas said, softly. _I am filled with sorrow for your loss, little one._

-o-

Hermione made a small campfire outside the tent, and sat down, gazing around. The forest was so beautiful, and it was like it called out to her.

_I wish I could run,_ she thought, _for a little while, if nothing else._

"You feel it as well, don't you, da'fen?"

Hermione turned around to find Solas standing there, gazing into the forest. "Mmh," she said with a sigh. "I do."

_What did he just call me?_ she thought. _Da'fen?_

Little wolf. He had just called her little wolf. Hermione found she rather loved that endearment.

"I could always knock out our companions for a little while," Hermione quipped. "So we could run for a bit."

Solas looked at her with glittery amusement in his eyes. "If only." Turning back to the forest, he continued. "Do you wish to keep your wolf-shape a secret?"

Hermione gave him a puzzled look, even if he wasn't looking at her. "Well, no. I just – I don't know, honestly."

"I understand what you mean, Lethallan," Solas said as he turned to look at her again. "However, they will find out at some point. Why not now?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Well, yes. Yes, why not now?"

She got up and walked over to the tent, poking her head inside. "Hello? Could you come outside for a moment?"

After a couple of minutes, everyone was outside, looking at Hermione and Solas with puzzled looks.

"So," Hermione said sheepishly. "Solas and I are going to run around the forest for a bit."

"Pardon?"

"Well, you see…" Hermione began, but then shook her head. "Maybe we could just show you."

"Indeed," Solas agreed, and Hermione had to stifle a laugh when she saw the spark of mischief in his eyes.

They shifted just at the same time, and then just stood there, next to each other, looking at their companions.

"You have got to be joking!" Dorian said after a very long, and very silent moment. "This is just…" He trailed off, and burst out laughing.

They shifted back, and Solas smirked, looking at Dorian (who was still laughing) with glittery eyes. "May The Dread Wolf never catch your scent, Dorian."

This did, in fact, shut Dorian up, and he stared at Solas for a long moment. "I'm not certain whether you are serious, or sassing me again."

"It could be both," Hermione quipped, and Solas chuckled. "Anyway, Solas and I are going for a run. Any objections?"

"Is it safe?"

Hermione couldn't help the somewhat amused look she gave Evelyn. "Well, first of all; my wolf-shape is, in fact, a _wolf._ Sharp teeth, enhanced senses, generally what a real wolf is. Second; I'm _literally_ standing next to The Dread Wolf. The ancient elven god, remember?"

Raising an eyebrow, Solas gave Hermione a rather jaded look, which did nothing to dampen her amusement. "Well, you _are._ Everything I just said was _literal._ I just figured it was the easiest that way."

Solas rolled his eyes. Actually _rolled his eyes._

"Emma shem'nan, da'fen. You have ten seconds."

_My revenge is swift, little wolf. You have ten seconds._

Hermione's eyes widened, and she turned to the perplexed people looking at them. "Yes, well, got to go. We will be back in a while."

She promptly shifted into her wolf form, and took off into the woods. The last thing she saw was Solas smirking, and then she heard the growl as he took off after her.

-o-

They returned to the camp approximately two hours later, happy and refreshed - strange, considering how they had spent two hours running - and Hermione couldn't help but glance at Solas all too frequently.

The light in his eyes after wolfing out in the forest was just...enthralling.

They entered the tent, and found their companions sitting in the living room. There was a moment of complete silence before Dorian spoke. "I find myself curious," he said in an amused voice, "as to why you have feathers in your hair."

Hermione was certain she blushed on a new, and thus far unknown level right then.

Her embarrassment, however, turned into outrage when Solas burst out laughing.

She spun around, pointing a finger at him. "You! You knew, and you purposely didn't tell me!"

When Solas laughed again, she promptly shifted, giving him barely enough time to shift as well before she pounced on him.

She had absolutely no chance against The Dread Wolf, and she knew it. But this time she took him by surprise, and she actually managed to knock him over, which was an achievement, quite frankly. She knew The Dread Wolf could probably have knocked her out in a second, so she was rather surprised when he relented.

_He let me win,_ she thought, mentally rolling her eyes.

It did feel _great,_ however _._ And satisfying. Even if she knew he had let her win.

She snarled angrily at Solas before shifting back to human shape, finding her companions staring at them with wide eyes.

"Remind me not to mess with her," Blackwall said shakily. "She just took down The Dread Wolf."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Solas shifted, and she saw the amused glint in his eyes. "Believe me," she said, giving the amused elven god a jaded look, "he let me win."

Solas smirked. "You _did_ knock me over. I'll admit to that."

"What is _happening_ to the world!?"

Hermione looked at Dorian's gobsmacked expression, and couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. "I have absolutely _no_ idea, Dorian."

He shook his head before smirking at her. "Now, about those feathers."

Hermione groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I _killed a bird,_ alright?"

"You killed a bird."

"Yes," she said, giving him a jaded look. "I killed a bird. I'm a _wolf,_ Dorian. Instincts, you know. I don't do it on purpose, though. It just…happens, sometimes. Hunting, running around…" she gestured aimlessly with her hands. "Just…the excitement of it all."

"I see," Dorian said in a thoughtful voice. "And…should we be worried?"

"About what?"

Solas chuckled. "He is wondering whether you will accidentally kill him, Hermione."

Hermione gave Solas a startled look before turning said startled look at Dorian. "Are you _serious?_ No! I have my thoughts, my humanity, and my reasoning intact, even as a wolf."

"But the excitement of it all, and wolfish instincts sometimes results in you killing birds," Dorian deadpanned.

"It's a _bird,_ Dorian. So yes. But _no._ You do not need to worry. Unless you decide to continue this conversation, that is. That might just result in _you_ running through that forest. Anyway, I am going to take a shower to get these bloody feathers out of my hair."

"A what?"

Hermione realised she had not introduced them to the miracle that was a shower. "A shower. And let me tell you, sometimes it's better than sex. Come on, I'll show you."

-o-

_Well, that was an overly interesting day,_ Hermione thought as she lay in her bed that night. Rolling her eyes, she turned over to her side to let sleep find her.


	9. What Are You? Five?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting! I'm a horrible person! But, I'm posting now, that's something? :P

-o-

Hermione woke up the next morning to commotion in the hallway outside her bedroom.

 _Now what,_ she thought as she got out of bed. _I can't go outside like this,_ was her next thought, realising her hair was probably on Brave-princess-level, and her black pyjama pants with pink and violet owls was rather…ridiculous. It was slightly too big for her as well, and hung rather low on her hips, resulting in a slight display of belly. Her t shirt – black, with the print **_Ask me about my T-REX_** – did nothing to help either. They would probably ask, and she would be forced to show them the pull-the-shirt-over-her-head-to-display-T-rex. She had a spaghetti top underneath, though. _Oh, screw it,_ she thought as she heard a bang from the hallway.

 _"_ _What,"_ she said as she pushed open the door. "Seriously, just _what."_

In the hallway, she found Blackwall, Dorian, Trevelyan, and Solas. Solas was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall, apparently watching in amusement.

But then, he saw Hermione.

 _I regret everything,_ she thought as Solas' eyes widened, and his eyes flickered as he looked her up and down. _Why didn't I just fix the hair, if nothing else?_

It was too late now, however, so Hermione just sighed as she walked over to the people causing the commotion.

Dorian was standing with his back against the wall, and Blackwall was standing in front of him, looking _quite_ annoyed.

"Why is Blackwall wearing nothing but a towel?" Hermione asked as she stopped next to them. "And what exactly is going on?"

She got no response, and decided to turn to Solas instead. "What exactly is so important that they find it worthy of interrupting my beauty sleep? As one can see, it was interrupted before it was finished."

He came over and stopped next to her, looking at her in a way that made her want to run and hide. _I regret absolutely everything,_ she thought as Solas gazed at her hair for a moment before meeting her eyes again. _Please stop looking at me in that way._

"Why in the world would you need beauty sleep, Da'fen?" Solas asked, catching Hermione completely off-guard. Before she could figure out what to say, the moment was over, and Solas nodded at Blackwall and Dorian as if nothing had happened. "Dorian, apparently, had an urge to get a glimpse of Blackwall's bare behind. Twice, as I understand. Blackwall, in return, had an urge to explain to Dorian - and in detail at that - how he is, in fact, interested in women, not men."

"Dorian used magic to levitate Blackwall's towel," Trevelyan added, rolling her eyes.

Hermione just stared at the two men for a moment. "Seriously? _Seriously?"_ She stepped closer to the two men, poking Blackwall's arm. "Stop being homophobic."

There was a slight pause before Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Hermione looked at the Inquisitor. "Homophobic. Homo – also known as gay – and phobic – phobia. It's somewhat self-explanatory," she said before focusing on Blackwall again. He was actually looking at her now. "Listen up. Why in the world do you feel the need to tell Dorian you aren't gay? He already knows. He is not trying to convert you. He's just trying to get a glimpse of that nicely shaped bottom of yours. It's not the end of the world."

"Exactly," Dorian began, but quickly shut up when Hermione focused on him.

Pointing a finger at the sassy Tevinter, she narrowed her eyes. "And you," she said, poking his chest, "don't be a prat. You already knew this was something that only you would find funny, and it's not all right. Would you have done the same to me?" She shook her head. "Let me rephrase. If someone had done the same to me, or to Evelyn, and we had reacted with embarrassment, would you have accepted it if they continued?"

Dorian's eyes widened. "No," he said, sighing. "I would not. Looking at it that way..." Dorian looked at Blackwall. "Shit, I do owe you an apology, don't I? Well, I apologise. Genuinely so, even. It will not happen again."

Blackwall seemed rather caught off-guard by the turn of events, and ended up with a somewhat perplexed expression. "Well, I guess I - apology accepted."

Hermione turned to Blackwall again. "And you," she said, pointing her finger at him, "you owe Dorian an apology as well."

"But, he was the one who started-"

"Merlin's knickers, honestly, Blackwall. He started it? What are you, five? Even if he started it, that does not give you the right to act as you did. Dorian is gay, so what? What exactly is it you are afraid of? That he will sneak into your bed in the middle of the night? That he will try to convert you? Dorian knows _very_ well how that can't be done. If it could, he would probably be married to some perfectly bred, fragile flower of a Tevinter lady, and would not be here, helping us save the world. Has he ever done anything – other than levitating your towel twice – inappropriate towards you? Has he done _anything_ to deserve the way you just treated him? Next you'll be calling elves knife-ears." Blackwall was about to object, but Hermione shook her head. "Yes, it's very different in a way. But it's the same concept, Blackwall. Being gay is not a choice. Being an elf is not a choice. How about Sera? You get along swimmingly with her, don't you? She's gay."

"That's different."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose before looking at him. "You do realise how stupid that comment was? No. No, it's not different at all. Which means the problem lies with you, not with Dorian. Yes, he levitated your towel, something that was not okay. But think about it. Has he ever done anything like that before? No? Indeed. I suspect the reason for why he did it was in some part because of that behind of yours, but for the most part? The first time Dorian – and all of you – saw a flannel towel was last night. New things are interesting, aren't they? Combine that with a slight faulty impulse control – what do you get? Levitating towels. Also, because Dorian thinks he is hilarious. Now, get over it. If it makes you feel better, I happen to know that you aren't even Dorian's type. Thus, he is not going around ogling you. Apologise."

Blackwall stared at Hermione for a long moment, but then he sighed as he turned to Dorian. "I apologise."

"Apology accepted."

Hermione nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Good. Now, Blackwall, stop being so bloody homophobic, and Dorian; _think_ before you act. If you would not approve of this happening to me, then just _don't."_ Sighing, she continued. "And now, I am going to take a _long_ shower, because I woke up approximately five minutes ago, and this was not how I planned on starting my day."

Before anyone could respond, Hermione spun on her heel and walked back to her room before anyone could protest, or ask her about her T-Rex.

-o-

While showering, Hermione contemplated the event that had just happened. Would they all be annoyed with her now? Had she overstepped?

 _Oh, screw it,_ she thought _._ _It's too late to change now anyway._

-o-

She emerged from her bedroom a while later, and found Solas out in the hallway, apparently waiting for her.

"You would be the Alpha in your pack," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione gave him a perplexed look. "What? Why?"

"You have two Omegas downstairs. Their tails would be between their legs - had they had tails."

Hermione chuckled. "I'll say. So they aren't mad at me?"

Solas shook his head. "No. Apologetic, perhaps. But not mad."

Hermione laughed. "I'm glad. Not that they are walking around with their tails between their legs, but that they aren't mad at me."

"They did deserve it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The whole thing was ridiculous."

"Indeed. And I do believe that is why there are two grown men walking around with sheepish looks."

Hermione shook her head before giving Solas an amused smile. "This will probably result in them being awkwardly polite to each other for a while."

Solas chuckled. "Indeed."

"Anyway," Hermione said as she gave Solas another smile, "are we about to leave?"

He nodded. "We are."

"All right," Hermione said as she followed Solas down the stairs.

 


	10. Stargazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10!
> 
> I just want to mention again - this was written BEFORE Trespasser! Which means it won't follow the Trespasser plot!
> 
> Anyway, let's get on with the story!

 

 

 

-o-

The rest of the journey passed by without any major events, and Hermione found she was rather fond of travelling by horse. She was also rather fond of the fact that Solas was riding next to her a lot of the time, and that he was teaching her elven. She was even getting rather good at it, being ever the quick learner.

-o-

Eventually, they reached the Western Approach, and Hermione had _very_ mixed feelings about the whole thing. They arrived late in the evening, and after chatting with Scout Harding – something Hermione was overly enthusiastic about – they found a suitable place to camp, and not long after, the wards were set, the tent pitched, and everyone were in their beds.

Well, except Hermione. She had made sure to let her wards cover a tall stone pillar, so she could do some stargazing.

Solas wasn't sleeping either, apparently, because she felt his magical signature as he exited the tent. There was a long moment of silence, and then she heard his voice. "Hermione?"

She rolled over on her belly and peeked over the edge of the pillar. "Up here!"

It took him a moment before he noticed her. "How did you get up there?"

Hermione apparated down, startling The Dread Wolf. "Sorry," she said with mirth, "I didn't mean to startle you. Do you want to join me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you doing on top of a stone pillar?"

"Stargazing."

-o-

A little while later, they were lying on their backs on top of the stone pillar, gazing at the beautiful sky.

Hermione was rather lost in thought, going through the Fade in her mind. When a mental image of the small cemetery popped up in her head, she stopped.

"Solas," she said quietly. "things are different now – since I am here – so I am wondering, what will you do, if we manage to save the orb? I think it will be destroyed though, but if that doesn't happen? Then what?"

Solas was silent for a long moment. "I am not certain I want to save it any longer. The power it contains – it is too dangerous."

"So you aren't planning on reshaping the world?"

"No. I thought you already knew that?"

"It's been a long time – it _feels_ like a long time, at least – since we discussed it. You said it was a bad idea, but you never told me whether you would still do it."

"Hm," he said. "true."

They laid there in silence for a little while before Hermione dared to say what was on her mind. "Solas," she said softly, "what are you going to do when Corypheus is gone? The original timeline says that you go to Flemeth – Mythal – but that won't end all that well for you."

"Much is uncertain, Lethallan," he said quietly. "And much have changed in a very short time, after you arrived."

"Can you at least promise me one thing?"

"What would that be?"

She sighed. "If you decide to leave…at least say goodbye. Don't just vanish. That's all I ask. Not that you tell me where you are going, not anything, just a goodbye."

"I promise, Lethallan."

-o-

Hermione had yet another subject she wanted to breach, but it was difficult to figure out how to approach it.

"Tell me what is on your mind," Solas suddenly said, and Hermione turned her head to look at him, finding him looking at her. She was about to speak, but he continued. "You have a question for me, or some subject you wish to talk about."

Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "How did you know?"

"Your breathing changes slightly, perhaps to keep up with your mind, and you go still, except for your hands. You curl them into fists every now and then." He turned his head, gazing at the sky again. "And you bite your lip." Hermione didn't quite know what to say, but then Solas continued again. "Tell me, Lethallan, what ails your mind?"

Hermione paused for a moment, but then she sighed. "All right. Do you want the melodramatic introduction, or the rational-explanation-introduction?"

Solas turned his head, looking at her with a hint of bemusement. "You have been contemplating this rather thoroughly, it seems."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"The melodramatic introduction."

Hermione smirked. "Alright," she said before turning her gaze to the sky again, and Solas did the same. She waited for a long moment, letting the silence sink over them again. Melodramatic introduction it was.

"Dying alone isn't what you should fear the most, Lethallin," she said quietly, softly, "Dying is just that. You die. What you _should_ fear; is spending your _life_ alone. Whether you die alone is not exactly something you can choose, or something you can plan for. _Life,_ however, is all about choices. And plans. You can _choose_ to not spend your life alone."

There was a very long moment of utter silence, and Hermione almost held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

"That was...unexpected," he finally said, ever so quietly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"There is a graveyard in the Fade. Not exactly a graveyard, it's a small area with tombstones. And the inscriptions on the tombstones are everyone's deepest, darkest fear. You will be seeing them when we get there, so I wanted to tell you before we got there." She paused for a moment. "On my first playthrough of the game, I didn't quite get it. Yes, dying alone is a legit, deep fear, no doubt, but I didn't understand the depth of it, because I didn't know who you truly are. I remember it puzzled me, because everyone else's fears were so logical. Dorian's fear is temptation, Iron Bull's is insanity, and Cole's is despair. All these make so much sense, but yours? I didn't quite get it. On my second playthrough, however…it affected me to the point where I had to take a break. Anyway, the point is that I wanted to tell you before we got there."

Solas was silent for a while, but then he spoke. "Life is about choices, you say. What would you do, if you were to choose for me?"

"Your worst fear is dying alone, and yet, you choose to spend your life alone. Yes, you have the Fade, your friends there, but that is different, isn't it? You have the Fade, and yet you tell the Inquisitor that you haven't had anyone you could trust in a long time, that you are not used to it. This, to me, suggests that the Fade is not enough. I can quote you, actually, what you said to the Spirit of Command. 'This realm follows different rules from the Fade's. Will alone cannot overcome what you seek. A solid form is both shackle and strength. It affects more than you can imagine.'" Hermione turned to look at him. "My theory is that you need both."

"And if your theory is indeed correct," he said, meeting her gaze, "what would you suggest next?"

"You have found your place in the Fade," Hermione said as she turned to look at the stars, "you have found your role, and your identity. You walk the Fade with security, without hesitation. You speak to spirits, and you know who they are - _what_ they are, because they are spirits of compassion, of justice, of wisdom, and you know what to expect. You can walk with certainty, because it is familiar, and predictable to a certain point. You can lose yourself in ancient memories, blend into events that were real...once. This too is predictable, because it has already happened, and it will not affect the world we live in. In the Fade, you have found your place, and your role."

Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. "But this realm, where will alone cannot overcome what you seek, have you found the same? Is a solid form strength, or shackle for you? Both, I imagine, but perhaps one is stronger than the other?"

She turned to look at him, and found him already looking at her. "I digress, don't I? I tend to do that. As for what I would suggest next? I would suggest that you find your place, your role in _this_ realm." She gazed at him for a long moment before continuing, studying his expression as she did. "I suggest…that you realise, and that you allow yourself to believe that you do, in fact, _deserve_ a place in this realm."

Studying his expression gave Hermione some of the answers she had been searching for. She kept looking at him, even though he turned his eyes to the stars again.

"Because that is the core of it, isn't it?" she said softly. "That is why you travel alone, why you don't allow anyone in. And that is why you haven't found your place here. Because you don't think you _deserve_ it. That is why you _choose_ to deny yourself happiness. That is why your deepest fear is dying alone. You fear it because that is the only outcome you can imagine. _That_ is why. _That_ is the reason for _everything,_ isn't it?"

Hermione took his silence as a yes, and turned her eyes to the stars. "Do you know what I think, Lethallin?"

"No," he replied after a long moment. "But perhaps you will tell me?"

"I think you are looking at this all wrong. And it is all rather counterproductive."

"How so?"

"Just imagine," she said as she folded her hands on her belly. "Just imagine all the good you could do, if you just decided to take part in this world." She paused for a moment. "Do you want the blunt, harsh version of what I am about to say, or the softer, wrapped version?"

He gave her a puzzled look before looking at the stars again. "Blunt and harsh."

She nodded, and gazed at the stars as well. "I think, Solas, that you need to suck it up and get on with your life. I think you need to stop wallowing in ancient guilt and grief – no one gains from it, after all – and change your view on the world. Everyone makes mistakes. Some mistakes are worse than others, of course, but wallowing in guilt and grief does nothing to help mend the mistake. Find a cause, a purpose. Don't spend your life watching almost forgotten, faded memories. Go out and make some memories for yourself instead."

She turned her head, and found him staring at her. "What? I _am_ right. Think about it; what would be better – travelling alone, not speaking to anyone, not trusting anyone – or finding a cause, a purpose, something that would help a lot of people. Your guilt and grief is, in fact, the self-centred option of these two." His eyes widened, and she sighed. "I'm sorry. But the truth is that you are wrong. You _do_ deserve a place in this world."

"You do not know the whole story. You don't know what I did."

Hermione shrugged. "True. But I _do_ know a couple of things. I know that the 'official' story, of the evil Trickster who locked away the Dalish gods isn't the truth. I know Mythal is, in fact, very much alive, and I know that you think you made a wrong choice. You think the wrong choice was made by a much younger elf that was certain he knew everything. But I know that did not do it to be right. He did it to save them. And I know…that the choice was, in fact, not wrong. You weren't wrong."

"Forgive me for my scepticism," he said. "But how do you _know_ this, as you say?"

"Because Cole says so," she simply said. "And I have yet to see Cole being wrong about anything."

"Cole views things differently. Different does not always mean right."

Hermione shook her head before turning to look at him. "Actually - in Cole's case at least - it does. He listened in on you, and although your thoughts are filled with guilt, and you are certain you were wrong, Cole saw past your guilt and opinions, and found a more objective view. _Your_ judgement is clouded, but his is not. Cole listens, picks up the pieces of the puzzle, and put them together. Cole does not let his own feelings or opinions get in the way, he just wants to help. And to do so, he needs the truth, so he can find the best way to help. I have _never_ seen Cole be wrong. Thus, I believe he is right about you." Solas just gazed at her, so she sighed. "These are my opinions, Solas. My view. And although I am rather convinced they are close to the truth, I am not as foolish as to think I know everything. Forgive me if I have offended you. That was not my intention. I just want you to be happy, Solas. That's all I want."

"There is much truth in what you say, Lethallan. I am not offended. I will…think about it."

"Thank you, Lethallin," Hermione said, giving him a small smile. "I appreciate it."

 


	11. Maker Bless You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11! Woop, woop!
> 
> See? I'm updating! Again, woop, woop! xD
> 
> FYI, in this fic, Hermione has a backstory as an Auror, among other things. Aurors use Unforgivables. That's canon. But the thought of Hermione using Unforgivables left and right doesn't sit well with me. Just saying xD 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your kudos! Also, your patience :P ! It makes me utterly happy! *hugs everyone*
> 
> Now, on with the story, and I totally don't own anything!

 

 

-o-

“Remind me again,” Evelyn said as they walked across the sandy dunes towards the place they were to meet Hawke and Stroud, "why we haven’t made you Inquisitor yet?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because my answer if someone asked me why would be ‘Oh, you know; I have a knack for maps and such. Need to find a landmark? I’m your person. Royal Elfroot? Let me write you a list!’” The Inquisitor laughed, and Hermione continued in a posh voice, trying to mimic one of the nobles. “And what of the former Inquisitor?’ would probably be the follow-up question. And I would flippantly reply ‘oh, she was just shit at map-reading. We spent fifteen minutes trying to locate a path up in the mountains in the Storm Coast once. _Fifteen minutes!_ Merlin’s knickers, can you imagine? Can’t have that, can we? Scandalous.”

Evelyn laughed again. “I would love to see that.”

Dorian, who had just walked up beside them, snorted a laugh. “Are you joking? I would _pay_ to see that.”

Hermione gave the sassy Tevinter an amused smile. “Would be interesting to see the reaction, I must admit.”

-o-

Hermione was rather nervous when they reached the Wardens and the imbecilic Tevinter Magister.

"I was wondering when the demon army would show up," The Inquisitor said, and while the Magister had his attention on Trevelyan, Hermione took a moment to study the bound mages.

She could  _feel_ the magic. It was rather powerful, and she could hear - feel - she didn't quite know how to explain it - the humming from the magical binding between the mage and the demon.

 _Can I break the link?_ Hermione thought. _What spell could possibly override a binding like that? Think, Hermione, Think!_ she thought as she realised the dialogue was closing in on the end. _It’s a form of mind control, what can break mind control? A stronger type of mind control perhaps? Imperio? Legilimency?_

 _Shit,_ she thought, as the combat began.

“Focus on the demons!” Hermione yelled. “Don’t kill the mages! Knock them out, paralyze them, freeze them, but don’t kill them! Not yet!”

Hermione stunned the two mages she had in line of sight, and then she focused on the nearest mage. “Imperio!” she yelled, putting all the force she could muster into the spell. _Yes!_ she thought as the mage’s expression turned to a blissful ignorance.

The binding was still there, however, and Hermione focused with all her power to take full control of the mage’s mind. _I’m battling the bloody nightmare, aren’t I?_ she thought as she threw up a shield with her left hand, shielding herself from a demon that tried to get to her.

“Bloody nightmare!” she hissed as she closed the distance between herself and the mage. “I will break you! I am coming for you, you foul creature! Imperio! _Imperio!”_

The binding held for something that felt like an eternity, but then... Then, it broke. Shattered, more like it. Hermione had a brief moment where she thought she had killed the mage by severing the connection, because the mage buckled down, landing in a heap on the ground.

But then, the mage groaned, and Hermione sighed with relief.

“Look at me,” she said, still having the mage under the Imperius curse. The mage looked up, and Hermione focused on him. “Tell me the truth, are you still linked to a demon?”

The mage shook his head, and Hermione lifted the spell, studying him for a moment. "Are you free of the binding?”

“Maker’s breath,” the mage all but whispered, "Maker bless you!"

“Yes, yes, Hermione replied. She didn't exactly have time for long conversations, considering how they were in the midst of a battle. Pointing at him, she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even _look_ at the demons here. I have more mages to save.”

Hermione ran towards the one mage she saw still awake and eagerly casting spells at her companions. “Imperio!” she yelled, and the mage’s eyes muddled over. She continued running, shielding herself to the right as she realised a demon had just cast a ball of fire towards her way. A rather _huge_ ball of fire. Would the shield hold? She wasn’t about to test it.

She noticed wooden boxes to her left, and jumped up on it.

The fireball would destroy the box though, so she jumped again, landing on the ledge of the tower.

The demon cast another fireball. It began peppering her with fireballs, in fact, and Hermione moved quickly, balancing on the ledge. _Fucking thing,_ she thought. _They couldn’t just make a straight path?_

She was about to jump off the ledge, but then she realised her movements made it hard for the demon to hit her.

She jumped up on one of the triangle-shaped stones. “Imperio!” she yelled, strengthening the control she had on the mage. “Attack the demon!”

The mage complied instantly, and when Hawke joined in, the demon was down and dead within seconds.

 _Shit!_ she thought as the mages she had stunned began waking up. “Stupefy!” she yelled, flicking her hand at one of the mages, sending as much magic as she could, wandlessly.

The mage was knocked out cold again.

Focusing on the second mage, Hermione focused again. “Petrificus Totalus!”

The mage froze, falling like a log down on the ground.

One demon left, and her companions, alongside Stroud and Hawke of course, had the bloody thing down in less than a minute.

The two final mages began waking up. Not the two she had stunned, but two others.

 _SHIT!_ she thought as both mages focused on Hermione, practically peppering her with spells.

She shouldn’t do anymore wandless magic. She had to save her strength if she was to break the connection to the Nightmare on five mages.

Although, one spell she could manage. “Vingardium Leviosa!” she yelled, lifting the wooden box on the ground. Jumping up on one of the triangle-shaped stones, she spun around so she faced them, and flung the box at them with force.

One of the mages was knocked out cold, and the second mage went down in the next moment as Dorian threw his paralyze spell.

“Oh thank the GODS!” Hermione yelled, and jumped down from the ledge, fixing her eyes on the mage she still had under the Imperius curse. _“Imperio,”_ she hissed. “Imperio!”

She stopped in front of the mage, and focusing with all her power, she forced the mage down on his knees. “Imperio!” The binding held, but not as long as last time before the mage buckled down, and Hermione sighed. “Look at me! Tell me the truth, are your binding with the demon broken? Is it gone?”

The mage nodded with vigour. “Yes.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione said as she lifted the spell, spun on her heel, and walked quickly towards the two mages she had stunned. She registered some ‘Andraste bless you’ calls from behind her, but then she focused on the mage she had cast stupefy on. He was about to wake up. _“Imperio,”_ she hissed, and the mage’s eyes muddled over. She reached him, and pointed her wand directly at his face. “Imperio! Give it up, Nightmare! Imperio!”

-o-

“Tell me the truth,” Hermione said in a shivery voice as she fixed the last mage with a piercing stare, “is the binding to the demon broken? Is it gone?”

The mage nodded. “Yes. Yes.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione whispered as she cancelled the spell, and slid down on the ground.

“Hermione!” Solas was there in the next moment, and Hermione gave him a small, exhausted smile. She could see his whole body sag in relief as he kneeled down and put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up and studying her. “Lethallan,” he said in a soft, but severe voice, "are you all right?”

“I would be much better if I had something to lean on,” she said in a somewhat shaky voice, "because I am pretty sure I am about five seconds from falling into a heap on the floor.”

Before she knew it, she was in Solas’ arms, and he lifted her bridal-style, still studying her face. “Lethallan,” he said gravely, “answer me. Are you all right?”

She nodded, and he sighed in relief. “I  _will_  be all right, at least. I just need rest.”

"You almost exhausted yourself, did you not? You used too much magic. Foolish woman."

She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't use  _too much._ I am very well aware of my limits. I would never risk magical depletion. That wouldn't help much, after all. I did, however, reach the limit where I stop. Luckily, I just managed to break the last binding."

"Hermione! Are you alright?"

She gave Evelyn a lazy smile. "Yes. I'll be perfectly fine after I rest. I just used a rather excessive amount of magic. It's rather...draining." She moved her head slightly, resulting in the discovery that not only was Evelyn standing there, but Blackwall and Dorian as well. Hawke and Stroud, were closing in, looking at Hermione with curious, awestruck eyes, and behind them - seven Grey Warden mages. "Damn," Hermione said, summoning a pepper-up potion from her pouch and downing it in one go. "Solas," she continued, looking at the elf holding her, "I'm leaving. Do you want to come?"

He looked perplexed for a moment before realisation lit up his eyes. "You want to apparate. But you are already drained."

"Apparition is not a big deal. And I don't intend to go far. Just to the camp." She glanced around. "This spectacle here will drain me more, believe me."

He looked uncertain for a moment, but then he nodded. "I would like to come, yes."

"Let me down, so my feet is on the ground please. In case you get dizzy." 

Solas complied, but held her firmly so she wouldn't fall. Which was probably a good idea right at this point, she realised.

Giving the Inquisitor a tired look, Hermione smiled. "I really have to get to the camp, so I'm apparating. With Solas." Evelyn just nodded, so Hermione waved lazily at the spectators, grabbed a hold of Solas, and apparated.

Solas lifted her in the air as soon as they landed, and promptly carried Hermione into the tent, proceeded up the stairs, and placed her on the bed. 

Hermione vaguely registered her shoes being removed, but that was the last thing she could remember before she was lost to the world.

 

 

 

 


	12. I'm Considering Joining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12! Yay!
> 
> This chapter is silly. But I couldn't help myself xD
> 
> Lotsa love for everyone!
> 
> Oh, and I don't own anything!

 

-o-

 

The journey back to the waking world was a long one. It felt like she was under water, slowly rising to the surface.

There was something cold on her forehead. _Cold is nice,_ she thought, barely able to put together those three words.

“ _Fenedhis_ , woman, I swear if you do not wake soon, you will feel the fury of Fen Harel.”

It took Hermione a moment to register what those words meant, but when she did, she burst out laughing.

She eventually managed to stop laughing, _and_ open her eyes, and found Solas there on the edge of the bed, looking at her with worried, but amused eyes. “Had I known threats would be the key to waking you up, I would have threatened you much earlier.”

Hermione gave him a sleepy, amused smile. “I’m happy I woke up in time to hear that. How long have I been asleep?”

“Twenty four hours, or so.”

She nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“How do you feel?”

She thought about it for a moment. Tired, but her magic was back. She was about to draw her wand, but realised she was in her pyjamas.

“Where is my wand!?” she practically yelled as old fears filled her mind, and she sat up in a flash, startling The Dread Wolf in the process. “Where is my wand!?”

Solas quickly leaned over and picked something from the nightstand. Her wand.

Hermione sighed in relief as the familiar wood touched her fingers. “Next time,” she said quietly, “put it under my pillow, if you could be so kind.”

“Of course, Lethallan.”

Her eyes widened when she remembered what had happened twenty four hours ago. “How are the mages?”

Solas smiled. “Unbound, unharmed, grateful, ashamed, and happy.”

“Really?” Hermione said, relieved. “They are honestly alright?”

“One has a black eye and a bump on the forehead, but that is it.”

“Oh,” Hermione said with an amused smile, “that would probably be the one I knocked out with a wooden crate.”

“Yes, about that,” Solas replied, “you made _quite_ the display on the ledge. You never cease to impress, do you now?”

Hermione shook her head. “I just realised that by jumping up and down from those triangle-rocks, the demons wouldn’t hit me with their bloody fireballs.”

“You almost moved like a rogue.”

She grinned. “Maybe I can train to be a rogue as well. That would have been something.” 

Solas actually rolled his eyes. _Rolled his eyes._ Hermione couldn't stop the surprised laugh that escaped her. "Did you just _roll your eyes,_ Dread Wolf?" she said, fighting a bubble of laughter threatening to burst. "I didn’t even know ancient, elven gods could do that.”

He looked slightly confused for a moment, but then his eyes glinted in amusement. “Oh, I might just have some hidden abilities yet.”

“Consider me intrigued,” Hermione said as she grinned at him.

He smiled at her, but then the smile faded to be replaced by a rather grave expression. “Your magic, Hermione, is it…restored?”

Hermione quickly nicked the wet piece of cloth he was holding, cupping her hands around it, and in the next moment flung her hands in the air, releasing a horde of tiny, white butterflies.

Solas watched with something akin to awe in his eyes as the butterflies flew around the room, but then, a butterfly landed on his head.

It was quite possibly the most hilarious thing Hermione had seen in her entire life. The tiny, white butterfly, flapping its wings as it sat apparently comfortably on the top of Solas' head.

Hermione met Solas' eyes, and the  _utterly_ jaded look he gave her made the whole thing even more hilarious.

Hermione broke down in a laughing fit. She couldn't help it.

She was still laughing when she heard the sound of a door opening, and finally managed to calm down when she realised Blackwall, Dorian, and Evelyn were standing behind Solas with mirthful expressions. Even Solas looked amused. The butterfly was no longer on his head, thank Merlin, because that would have triggered the laughing fit all over again.

"You're feeling better then, I assume," Dorian quipped, “if the butterflies and the level of amusement is anything to go by, that is.”

"Much better, thank you,” Hermione said as she grinned at him, summoned a piece of paper from the desk, curled it into a ball inside her hands, and released yet another flock of butterflies. Flicking a finger, every butterfly landed on Dorian, causing a snicker from Blackwall and a chuckle from Trevelyan. Hermione grinned, snapped her fingers, and the butterflies vanished.

“Your magic is back as well, I assume,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow. “On another topic; I have this excellent suggestion, you see. I thought perhaps we could just send _you_ into the Fade, by yourself. The Inquisitor could open a rift, and you could jump in and clear up the area in a jiffy. After that display at the ritual tower, I am quite certain you would manage _just_ fine.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait. Honestly though, it’s not exactly a miracle to balance on a ledge.”

“Well,” Dorian began, “no, perhaps not. But balancing on a ledge, _while_ mind controlling a mage bound to a demon, dodging a rain of fireballs, throwing wooden crates around, knocking out mages, _and_ keeping two mages unconscious on the other side of the tower… _that_ is drawing close to miraculous. Oh, and then you proceeded to break the binding – _seven_ times – to a nightmare demon – I have to admit I was close to terrified while watching you. I think Corypheus himself would have taken a step back at the sight of you at the time. Thinking about it; why don’t we just send you off to take care of him?”

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Are you quite finished?”

“For now,” he quipped. “But I am certain I can come up with something more for later.”

“I can’t wait,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes a third time. “Now, what about the mages? They are all okay?”

“Yes,” Dorian replied. “But there is a chance you accidentally formed a new cult.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wonderful.”

Dorian cocked his head, gazed at her for a moment, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m considering joining.”

Hermione shook her head, but couldn't help being amused. "Please don’t," she said, smiling at Dorian. “Anyway, I really want to get up, and I _really_ want to shower.”

Evelyn nodded. “We will be downstairs.”

Everyone began leaving the room, except for Solas: He stopped in the doorway, looking at her. “I’m glad you are alright, Lethallan.”

Hermione gave him a warm smile. “Ma serannas, Lethallin.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Rather Melodramatic, Isn't It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13! 
> 
> I was asked if Cole would have a role in the Fade - I'm afraid he won't. Considering that Hermione knows how dreadful it will be for him to come with them, it didn't seem logical. He's so afraid in the raw Fade, and I feel for him!
> 
> I've written him in the Fade in some of my other fics (which I have not posted here, just so I don't confuse anyone) and I feel so sorry for him every time.
> 
> Btw, here comes the explanation about Hermione's use of Unforgivables. Or have I already explained it in this fic? I may or may not be slightly confused! xD
> 
> Disclaimer: ain't mine, yo!

 

-o-

The battle at Adamant was still a few days away, so they were forced to spend a few days in the Western Approach, something that Hermione didn’t really mind at all. She liked the Western Approach. Bit too much sand, perhaps, and a bit too hot, but she transfigured her clothes, and was now wearing - something that looked somewhat like Florianne's rogue armour. It was tight, dark brown - almost black, made of sturdy, but very flexible leather, and wasn’t too hot to wear. It was just perfect, _even_ if she felt a bit like Catwoman – only thing missing was the mask and the tail, after all. She had felt slightly uncomfortable with how tight it was at first. It was like it was glued to her body, and she felt almost naked sometimes, because it showed off her curves in a way she wasn't exactly used to. But then, when she had realised how easily she could move, how protective it was, and how it didn’t overheat in the daytime, nor get too cold at night, she had decided that it was worth it. She even kind of liked that she looked like a rogue, she had realised. This realisation had given her an idea.

After the accidental-cult-creation, she had realised that her displays of magic could cause more than just _one_ cult, and quite possibly fear as well, something that was not good for the Inquisition.

And she could move like a rogue - she was actually not too bad with a dagger – and her wand could stay in her sleeve, because it still worked, even if she wasn’t exactly holding it in her hand.

The idea was to pose as a rogue. She already had several ideas of how she could do a slight adjustment to some charms and spells, mimicking rogue-abilities.

Adding a flare of grey smoke as she disillusioned herself - stealth.

Apparating behind an enemy while disillusioned – Shadow Step.

She had plenty of ideas, and she kept trying new things whenever they faced enemies that was easily defeated. Bandits, for example. She was more careful with the Red Templars, however, and the demons.

-o-

"I swear I will never wear anything else in my entire life," Hermione said happily, and did something close to a pirouette in the in the soft sand. "Fighting is so much easier with this."

Dorian raised an amused eyebrow. "Careful, my dear, you're so excited you'll take off and fly away at any point now."

Well, she  _could_ already fly. Hermione had worked for years to find a way to use Unforgivables without destroying your soul in the process. She had worked as an auror, and they had to use Unforgivables far too frequently for Hermione's taste.

She had succeeded in the end. The clue was to pour strong emotions into the spell. It didn't need to be rage or hatred; it could be anything, as long as it was a powerful emotion.

Thus, she could fly. She had learned the spell Professor Snape had used. It was much better than brooms. Hermione hated brooms. 

She wasn't about to tell Dorian she could fly, however. She hated when they looked at her with that spark of awe in their eyes, and the flying spell would most certainly result in sparkly, awestruck eyes all around. The spell looked  _bloody_ cool after all, even without the dramatic flare of billowing, black robes - courtesy of Professor Snape.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll try to avoid it."

"You have got to be joking."

Hermione gave Dorian a confused look. "What?"

"You  _can_ fly, yes?"

Her startled look gave her away instantly, and she sighed. "Yes. But I hate when people look at me like..." she paused, looking for the correct way to express it. "Like I'm the most fascinating thing they have ever seen."

"But you  _are_ the most fascinating thing we have ever seen."

Hermione sighed again. "Please stop it, Dorian."

He looked a bit surprised. "You really are serious, aren't you?"

Giving Dorian a small, somewhat sheepish smile, she nodded. "I'm not all that fond of being the centre of attention."

He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before speaking again, sassy as ever. "Would it help if we criticized your technique instead?"

Hermione chuckled. "In fact, yes, it would."

"So, if I promise to tell you all the things I find wrong, will you demonstrate a quick flight?”

Hermione sighed, raised an eyebrow, and then she took off from the ground in a flare of black smoke.

Hermione loved flying, and she had practiced _a lot_ on doing tricks, loops, falling to the ground just to spin up again just before she hit the ground.

It had come in handy when she worked in the Department of Mysteries. The Unspeakables had quite the interesting, but often quite dangerous tasks.

Hermione beamed at the blue sky as she looped, and then let herself fall towards the ground. She didn’t fall too far though, because she didn’t want to scare the life out of them.

It had been way too long since she flew. _I should land, though,_ she thought. _Considering how this zone is filled with random enemies, and not to forget quest givers all around._

Sighing, she did a big loop, focused on a target – Dorian – and sped up.

She had seen Professor Snape land one time. He had sped towards the ground, and she had thought he was about to pummel himself right into certain death, but then he landed perfectly on his feet, smoke flaring around him as he walked, like he hadn’t just done this practically impossible thing.

It had taken her a _long_ time to even get close to the amazing way Snape did it, but eventually she had managed. Almost, at least. She would never have the natural grace that Professor Snape had, because wow, the surly, dark professor had grace on a whole new level, surprising as that was.

She chuckled when she saw Dorian’s alarmed expression as she flew with lighting speed right toward him. He actually stopped, took a couple of steps back, and she chuckled again.

Approximately three meters in front of them, she changed course, promptly landed – perfectly – and walked towards them as the black smoke flared around her before it vanished.

She stopped in front of them, looking expectantly at Dorian – he was staring at her with wide eyes, and she raised an eyebrow.

His expression changed then, and he gave her a holier-than-thou look. “Rather melodramatic, isn’t it?”

Hermione laughed, closed the distance to Dorian, hugged him, and then spun on her heel, practically bouncing away.

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Is Two Am Your Smooth-Sass-Hour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14! 
> 
> Ah, Solas. You smooth heartbreaker, you! 
> 
> Seriously though, I had a total wtf-moment the first time Solas flipped his smooth-switch. 
> 
> The rogue flirt option - "So, you're suggesting I'm graceful?" Solas: "No. I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate."
> 
> Basically, the Dread Wolf is smooth as hell. 
> 
> Anyway, on with the story, and oh, I don't own anything!

 

-o-

They would be going to Adamant tomorrow, and Hermione was rather tense, to say the least.

She couldn't sleep.

And it was  _crucial_ that she slept. She needed all her energy for tomorrow, she couldn't go to Adamant, and enter the Fade to take down a huge monster and a Nightmare without a proper night's sleep.

But she just  _could not_ sleep.

She lay there, contemplating what she could do, how she could calm herself down enough to fall asleep.

What she _really_ wanted, was to leave this bedroom, go past the door to the bathroom, and then knock on the next door.

And then, hopefully, she would fall asleep inside that bedroom instead. Hopefully, Solas would allow her to sleep there.

Solas made her feel…safe. He made her feel…calm, serene. And right now, she really needed calm and serene.

 _You can’t do that,_ she thought. _It’s too weird, too intrusive. And he will probably say yes, even if he doesn’t want you there. You will overstep some boundaries there, and things might change between you._

She did not want anything to change between them. She would be devastated if she lost the close friendship she had with him. Not to mention her wolf-companion.

 _No,_ she thought. _No, you can’t risk it._

-o-

Thirty minutes later, Hermione was still lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was almost one am. Seven hours and twelve minutes until she had to get up. This was not going very well. 

 _Who am I kidding?_ she thought. _Not very well is a bloody understatement._

-o-

Yet another thirty minutes later – six hours and seventeen minutes until she had to get up – Hermione sat up in the bed. She _had_ to sleep, but sleep was not going to find her here.

 _I give up,_ she thought, and sighed as she got up from the bed and exited the room.

She felt like she was six years old again, standing in the dark hallway, hesitating outside the door. She was six years old, and couldn’t sleep.

The difference was of course that her parents weren't the ones sleeping behind this door. It was someone rather different, to say the least.

 _Get a grip,_ she thought. _You are a bloody Gryffindor._

Before she could change her mind, she knocked, and then opened the door just a crack. “Solas?” she whispered. “May I come in?”

She heard Solas voice, heavy with sleep. “Hermione?”

She opened the door just a tad more, peeking inside. “May I come inside?”

“Is something wrong?” Solas asked, and his voice was more alert. “And of course you may come inside.”

She took a deep breath, and entered the room. “No, nothing is wrong.”

He sat up in the bed, looking at her with sleepy eyes. “Still, I assume you have a reason for why you are here,” he said before continuing in a soft voice. "What can I do for you, Lethallan?”

 _Just say it! Just ask!_ Hermione yelled to herself in her mind. “I can’t sleep,” she said, and quickly continued before she lost her nerve. “Can I sleep here? I know it’s ridiculous, but I won’t be able to sleep at all in my room, and I would rather not go to Adamant, nor the Fade without sleeping the night before. So…can I…sleep here?”

He looked rather perplexed. “Do you want me to sleep in your room?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. "That would sort of take away the whole point." He still looked rather perplexed, and she sighed. "Sorry. This was a bad idea. Sorry for waking you."

She turned to the door, and her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke. “Of course you can sleep here, da'len."

Hermione sighed with relief as she turned around and walked over to the bed before she could change her mind. She lifted the covers, climbed into the bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin as she curled up and sighed softly.

She opened her eyes, and luckily managed to stop her breath from hitching when she met Solas’ eyes. He was propped up on his elbow, gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but affected her nevertheless.

“What?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

“You are a curious being, Hermione Granger.”

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. “A good thing.”

She sighed happily. “Good. Now, go to sleep Dread Wolf. Elven god or not, you are interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Solas chuckled. “Am I, truly? My humble apologies. I should point out, however, that beauty sleep is not necessary in your case.”

She opened her eyes in surprise, but the surprise turned to amusement when she saw Solas’ raised eyebrow and slight smirk.

“Smooth, I'll admit."

He chuckled. "Thank you."

She gave him a wry smile. "What's next? The 'we might die tomorrow' speech?"

"Why do you ask? Would _you_ like for me to give said speech?"

Hermione blushed furiously. She could do absolutely nothing to stop it, because the tone in his voice, and the glint in his eyes did stupid things to her brain. The result was of course an amused expression on The Dread Wolf's face.

"What is this? Is two am your smooth-sass-hour?" Hermione asked, and rolled her eyes when Solas looked increasingly amused by the second. "Oh, stop it. Or else I will pinch you."

His eyes widened, but the amused smile did not fade. "I beg your pardon? You will  _pinch_ me?"

"Yes. It requires a minimum of moving."

"A minimum of moving. I see. Well then. I best stop.”

“Indeed," she said, ignoring the Mirthful Dread Wolf. "Now, go to sleep, sassy elf. We have a world to save and demons to kill tomorrow.”

“True,” the sassy elf said, and chuckled. Rolling over on his back, he continued. “Goodnight, Lethallan.”

“Goodnight, Lethallin.”

-o-

She woke up a little while later, and she was freezing. She contemplated going to her room to get her blanket, but that would probably result in her being wide awake by the time she came back. She opened her eyes, looking at Solas' back. He was probably warm. Guaranteed, in fact. And she had demons to kill tomorrow. A world to save.

And The Dread Wolf was lovely. Lovely and warm.

She moved closer, happy that the bed had one, huge cover instead of two smaller ones, because that made it all too easy to move close to him, feeling his warmth.

It was all well and good, except for the fact that she woke The Dread Wolf.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm cold."

"Mmh," he replied sleepily as he turned around, and before she knew it, she was in Solas' arms, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. It took her a moment to get over the shock of it all, but the warmth that was practically radiating from him made her relax. Sighing in content, Hermione closed her eyes.

"Sleep, da'fen." Solas said softly, and Hermione snuggled up closer, asleep within minutes.

-o-

Hermione woke up the next morning, and after a moment – that moment just as you wake up, before the brain is coherent, before the mind is conscious – she remembered where she was, who she was with, and that he was still holding her.

Also, she realised how extremely comfortable she was, but that was beside the point.

 _Also,_  she realised he was playing with her hair.

She wished she could stay like this forever. Unfortunately, they had a world to save.

"Do you think we could just skip the whole demon-army-ordeal?" Hermione asked, and felt Solas freeze up for a moment. She decided to ignore it, and continued. "And that Nightmare sounds rather tedious, quite frankly. I would like to take the day off instead."

Solas unfroze, and she let out a soft sigh when he began playing with her hair again. 

"It sounds rather tedious, indeed," Solas quipped. "Isn't there a pretend-Archdemon as well?"

Hermione groaned. "Thank you for reminding me."

"You forgot about the pretend-Archdemon?"

"Briefly."

Solas chuckled. "Easy to forget. I understand completely."

"Why have you put away the thick covers?"

"Are you complaining?"

Solas' voice was a mixture of suggestiveness and softness, giving Hermione goosebumps.

"You're sassy in the morning as well, I see. But no, I'm not. But I have no idea how you manage to keep so warm without the blankets."

"I am generally warmer than the average person."

Hermione considered this for a moment. "Is it a god-thing?"

Solas chuckled. "Perhaps."

Hermione considered this for a moment as well, until she remembered the state of the world outside. "Time to get up and save the world, I suppose," she said before pausing. "Well that will certainly be added that to the list of ‘phrases I never thought I would say'."

Solas chuckled again. "That sounds like an interesting list."

"I will tell you all about it later," she said as she sat up - reluctantly - and climbed out of the bed, and out of the warm embrace of Solas. Turning around, she smiled at him. "Thank you for letting me sleep here."

He gave her a soft smile. "Any time, Hermione."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. I'm Not Going to Let You Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15!
> 
> Let's head to Adamant, shall we? And the Fade, of course!
> 
> Disclaimer: still not mine!

 

-o-

 

Adamant was just as chaotic as she had expected, perhaps even more so.

She had very mixed feelings about the mages. There would be mage casualties, definitely, but at least everyone had been ordered to knock out as many of them as possible, and not kill them.

Hermione couldn't use Imperio to break the binding. It drained her too much, and she had to save her strength for the Fade, but it felt so wrong to let them die.

_The Nightmare is more important,_ she thought.  _They will all be released from the binding then._

It was still sad, though.

-o-

Hermione was terrified as she watched the Grey Warden commander cast her spell, and the pretend-Archdemon fell.

She was terrified, because they were about to fall down into certain death. If something went wrong, it would be certain death.

Not for Hermione, though. She could fly, after all.

For the rest, however? Certain death.

They bridge collapsed, and Hermione saw the expression of pure terror on Solas’ face as they began falling.

Hermione had been holding on to a rock, which meant she was falling face up to the sky, and Solas was almost directly over her, ten feet away, or so.

And she just couldn’t handle watching the expression of utter fear as he stared at the ground closing in.

She went into flight-mode, so to speak, and adjusted her position so she was right underneath Solas. His eyes widened, and she opened her arms like she was about to embrace him.

_Well, it's sort of an embrace,_ she thought as she slowed down her fall, and a moment later, Solas hit her. The impact was hard, but she wrapped her arms around him, and he clung to her, desperately.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” she said in his ear as the black smoke surrounded them, and she turned them to the side so she could see the ground, and then let them fall. If everything went pear-shaped, she would stop just before they hit the ground, just as she had practiced a million times before. “I’m not about to let you die, Lethallin."

The Inquisitor opened a rift, and they all tumbled down, into it, but Hermione was a bit surprised to see that the ground was still quite the distance away.

_What if it’s different?_ Hermione thought. _What if they die after all, because of the distance?_

“Hold on tight, love,” she said as she slowed down the fall, stopping mid-air, and flicked her wand.  _“Arresto Momentum!”_

She watched with satisfaction as everyone’s fall slowed down to a crawl, and they headed towards the ground in a speed that would definitely not kill anyone.

"We're not going to suddenly fall," she said while still keeping an eye on the rest of the group. She had just realised that Solas was shaking slightly - perhaps not too strange, considering how they were hovering in mid-air, and a fall would be quite lethal. "I just need to watch in case something goes wrong, and it's easier when we're not moving. I'm not going to let you fall."

"I believe you, Lethallan," Solas said in a shaky voice, "but that was a rather unpleasant experience."

"I can't disagree with you on that," she said, tightening her arm around his waist and their entangled legs. "It was rather terrifying, in fact."

Solas chuckled shakily. "Aptly put, Hermione."

When everyone was in a safe, non-lethal distance from the ground, Hermione turned in the air so their feet pointed toward the ground, wrapped both arms around Solas' waist, and slowly descended.

He was still shaking, and she turned her head to look at him. Although shaky, he was looking at her with such softness in his eyes, and it caught her off-guard.

"Thank you, Lethallan," he said, ever so softly, and her breath caught in her throat. “You rescue me…again.”

Hermione was not aware that she had rescued him at any point before, and this was not really a rescue either. “We weren’t actually dying, you know. And I…haven’t saved you before either.”

“There are many ways to save someone, ma’enansal.”

Her eyes widened, and her mind just paused for a moment, repeating his endearment for her. He had just called her ‘My gift’, or ‘My blessing’.

She wanted to ask him what he meant when her mind began working again, but just then their feet touched the ground, and she remembered where they were.

“How lovely,” she murmured as the black, swirly smoke cleared up around them, “we’re in the Fade.”

They let go of each other, and Hermione was amused to see Solas’ eyes glitter with intrigue as he began taking in their surroundings. She then turned to their companions, but froze when she found five people staring at her.

“That was some rescue,” Dorian eventually said, breathlessly, but then he apparently remembered that he was supposed to be unimpressed by Hermione's displays of magic. “Oh," he continued in a much more flippant tone of voice. "I mean – that was completely unnecessary, honestly. It’s not like we were dying, we already knew that.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smirked. “Indeed. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“Who are you?” Stroud said, staring at Hermione. _“What_ are you?”

_Oh, that’s right,_ she thought, looking at Stroud and Hawke’s shocked expressions, _they don’t really know about me._

Hawke and Stroud had been told that they wouldn’t be dying, even if it would seem that way when they fell, and about what they would face in the Fade. Some of it, at least.

They had, however, not been told all the details about Hermione.

_Well, shit,_ she thought, and sighed. “The answer to both questions is; it’s a long story. And when we get out of here, preferably without anyone dying, you can hear all about it. For now though, we have more pressing issues that needs our attention.”

Dorian gave Hermione an amused smile before turning to Hawke and Stroud. “I strongly suggest you listen to whatever she says, though.”

“And by strongly suggest,” Trevelyan said, “he means; _listen_ to her. Do whatever she says. Do not question it.”

Hawke and Stroud looked at Hermione with puzzled expressions, and Hermione sighed. “If you listen to me, we will all get out of here in one piece. Hopefully. Don’t ask how I know. It’s a long story. A story that is too long to explain now. When we get out of here in one piece, I’ll tell you.”

Both Hawke and Stroud nodded, and then Hawke cocked her head, gazing curiously at Hermione. “Varric said something similar, and that’s good enough for me.”

Hermione sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she said before gesturing at their surroundings. “Now, we are in the Fade, _physically_ in the Fade, and this place is controlled by a Fear demon – he/it is what’s controlling the Warden mages – and we need to defeat it. We will face it before we get out of here, one regular-sized demon – Aspect of the Nightmare – and a monster approximately the size of your house in Kirkwall, Hawke. Hopefully we will not be forced to fight the house-sized monster, but I am not certain. I will tell you along the way what we are about to face, and hopefully I will be correct.”

“You have been correct in everything thus far, Lethallan.”

Hermione gave Solas a smile. “Let’s hope that continues. Now, there are some demons over there,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the demons, “and then we will meet Divine Justinia. Or her soul, her memory, or something similar. She never quite reveals what exactly she is.”

Hawke opened her mouth, but then shook her head. “Long story, tell us later, was that it? I can accept that. Now, demons and the Divine. That is…insane. Let’s go.”

Hermione laughed as they began moving towards the demons.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Dirth Ma, Harellan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16! Woop woop!
> 
> Have you read the letters in the Fade? And done the dreamers quest? If not, I strongly suggest it. #FEELS
> 
> I love you all! Thank you for kudos and bookmarks! 
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine, yo!

 

-o-

 

They defeated the first couple of demons quickly, and Hermione walked over to the table where the first dreamer sat.

“All right," she said, sighing, “you see this spirit? It’s a dream, or a memory, it’s a bit vague. There are five of them in this area, and we can help them find peace. It’s not difficult, so I suggest we do it.”

Hawke came over and picked up the letter on the table in front of the spirit. “The Pilgrim,” she said, paused, and then began reading. _“I came to the Temple of Sacred Ashes with the faithful, ready to help at the Conclave.”_

Hawke paused and glanced at Hermione. _“I prayed to the Maker for peace,”_ Hermione continued, knowing the letter by heart _, “but the mountains shook and fell and buried me. Alone in the darkness, my legs crushed, I cried in fear of a world with no Maker, fading in and out of dreams of monsters inside the black.”_

Hawke stared at her with wide eyes, having paid attention to what the letter said as Hermione spoke. _“Light my final hours,”_ she said in a moved voice. _“Let me go to the Maker without the terrors of darkness confounding me.”_

Hermione nodded before looking at the spirit. “We will do exactly that, don’t worry,” she said, and then walked over to find the candle.

The rest watched as she picked up the candle, placed it on the table, and flicked a finger, lighting it. "There you go," she said softly. "I hope you find the light."

-o-

They moved along, met Divine Justinia, several demons, helped some dreamers, and Hermione was glad to see that everything was  _exactly_ as it was in the game.

"This is a small child's memory. I bloody hate this place," Hermione said as she picked up a note next to a small door, and began to read. _"The door is open. Mother said to run. She said the darkspawn were coming. She wanted me to go. The door is open. It was closed when I left. She said she would be right behind me. She said not to come back, no matter what. The lamps are lit all over the village even during the day, to see through the smoke. Mother should be here by now. But the door is open. I'm going to look inside."_

"Oh, Andraste," Evelyn said breathlessly, "that is... _horrible."_

"Tell me about it," Hermione said, giving Evelyn a dark look. "Let's move on shall we?"

-o-

“Hawke,” Hermione said as she saw the narrow passage with the spiders, “just remember that everything the Fear demon says is bullshit. Also, there will be small fears, taking the shape of something you are afraid of. Spiders in your case, Hawke, and you Evelyn. I don’t know about the rest of you. Just remember - they are just illusions.”

Hawke growled as they listened to the demon, and then the spiders appeared.

Except…it wasn’t spiders. Not for Hermione. For some reason, the small fears took the shape of dementors. Hermione reacted instinctively, and cast her Patronus before remembering that they were, in fact, not real.

 _Oh god,_ she thought as she noticed the Patronus. _This is not the time to think about this,_ was her next thought as she cancelled the spell and attacked the fears.

She would, however, think about this later.

Because her Patronus had changed.

Her Patronus had _changed._

The Patronus shape was no longer her familiar otter. Not at all.

It was a wolf.

Not any wolf, however. Hermione would recognise Solas’ shape anywhere.

Her Patronus was The Dread Wolf.

-o-

They reached the graveyard, and Hermione stopped before they entered. "No demons here," she said quietly. "This is not exactly a graveyard. The tombstones in here are inscribed with people's deepest fears. Yours is here, Blackwall. So is Solas', and yours, Dorian. Also Cassandra's, Varric's, Iron Bull's Cole's, Sera's, and Vivienne's. Everyone except Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Evelyn have a tombstone inscribed here." She turned around and looked at the rest. “Do we really need to go in here? Well, _I_ need to go in here, to get the item for the dreamer, but I already know what the stones say. Do you really need to know each other’s darkest fears?”

“No,” the Inquisitor said. “No, we are not going in there.”

“All right,” Hermione said, and went to get the small phial of Darkspawn blood.

-o-

“Alright, we are going up here to find the final dreamer, and the two Pride Demons strolling around, and then we will go back and down the stairs we passed on the way here.”

They did so, and Hermione recognised the place where the demon would talk to Solas. “Just remember, Lethallin,” she said quietly, looking at Solas, “that it’s basically making things up.”

Solas gave her a puzzled look, but then the booming, powerful voice of the Fear demon spoke.

**“Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin.** **Mar solas ena mar din."**

_‘I will tell you, trickster. Your victory was for naught. Your pride will lead to your death.’_

Solas’ eyes widened, so Hermione rolled her eyes. “Banal nadas,” she said, giving the sky a dark look. “Tel garas solasan, enfanim. Mala solas him din'an. Ar tu na'din. Ne na halam.”

_‘Nothing is inevitable. Come not to a prideful place, fear. Your pride will be your death. We will kill you. You are finished.’_

The demon laughed, and Hermione sighed. _Great,_ she thought. _I probably enabled it to address me now._

She was right.

**“Ah, yes, the little girl who thinks she knows everything. Then why is it, little girl, if you know everything, why are you so afraid? Your fear of failure vibrates throughout your whole being, torments you in the night, and clouds your mind in the day. It's because you know it is for naught. It's because you know your own insignificance. Because you know you cannot save this world. You know you are too weak, and in the end, your weakness will be your downfall. You will fail, and you will bring the ones you love down with you. You know you are a mistake, little girl, a fraud, and you do not belong here. You do not deserve to be here, nor do you deserve the praise you are given. Their faith in you will doom everything and everyone you love. Ma emma harel, asha."**

_'You should fear me, girl.'_

Hermione sighed as she realised she had stopped walking when the demon began talking to her, and that she was standing there with a rather mournful expression. Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to the sky. “Enfanim tu ma then, la las ma sulevin, elgar."

_'Fear makes me alert, and gives me purpose, spirit.'_

"At least it’s not my pride that will be my death, as it will be for you.  As for the praise I am given? No, I don’t deserve it, but I can _try_ to be worthy of it. I have no idea whether I belong here or not, but let’s hope my fear and the faith they have in me will save everyone I love, shall we?”

Squaring her shoulders as to shake it off, she narrowed her eyes at the sky. “And stop being such an arse, will you?” Hermione said, raised her chin, and walked on.

Solas walked next to her, and she gave him a small, but sad smile. “I just adore the Fade,” she said, sighing, “let’s all talk about our deepest fears, shall we?"

He gazed at her for a moment before speaking in a gentle voice. “Put your worries to rest, Lethallan.”

She sighed again. “It’s not exactly easy, now is it?”

He gave her a small smile. “Tel’enenfim, da’fen,” he said, gazing at the sky for a moment before looking back at her. “Ma tel'u. La ar glandival...ar glandival ma arla sahlin, da'vhenan.”

If not for the demons they were closing in on, she would have thrown herself at him and hugged him – possibly kissed him – and then probably cried a bit. Instead, she gave him a soft smile. “Thank you, Solas.”

_‘Never fear, little wolf. You are not alone. And I believe...I believe you are home now, little heart.’_

-o-

“So,” Hermione said as they entered the tunnel where the bloody demon was waiting for them at the other end. “I told you about the Aspect of the Nightmare, but not the tall-as-a-house-monster, because I have no idea what to do with it. Hopefully we won’t need to fight it, but if we do…just stab it with everything you have. Make it _bleed._ Literally. It doesn’t like that. The Fade Rift is on the other side of it, so if we try to fight our way towards it, perhaps we don’t have to _kill_ the bloody monster. Other than that? Pray. Just…pray.”

-o-

The Aspect of the Nightmare went down surprisingly easy, but then they were - of course - faced with the monster.

"I will distract it-"

"You will do  _no_ such thing," Hermione said sharply to Stroud. "I'm here this time. We will damned well try to kill the thing. All of you, be  _careful!"_

Before anyone could object, Hermione took off from the ground, set on finding the bloody head of the thing. It had to have a head, right?

 _Probably,_ she thought as the thing seemed to notice her.

 _Yes, probably,_ she thought again, because the thing focused on her, trying its best to catch her, and to hit her with bolts of venom, and bolts of...things she didn't want to be hit with.

She was ever so grateful for the countless hours she had spent on her flying skills, because the monster was apparently furious at her, vigorously trying to hit Hermione with something. Hermione was trying to hit the monster as well, and considering the size of the thing, she succeeded quite brilliantly.

If she only could figure out what spell would damage it the most.

Her spells did some damage, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the thing seemed to heal before she could get in any serious damage.

They couldn't defeat it. They had to run. Except to run, they had to distract it.

 _Pain worked last time,_ she thought.  _It has to hurt even while we're running._

What spell could hurt it continually while they were running? 

Hermione began descending, praying that her plan worked.

"We can't defeat it!" She yelled as she landed behind the others. "Prepare to run!"

 _Please God, Andraste, the Maker, everyone, please let this work,_ she thought as she focused with all her fear, anger, desperation - every emotion she could conjure - and pointed her wand at the monster.  ** _"Crucio!"_**

The monster screamed.  _Screamed._ It was working.

"Please run!" Hermione yelled at the rest before focusing on the monster again.  ** _"Crucio!"_**

They ran, and Hermione prayed that she would be able to keep the spell strong enough until they reached the rift.

 ** _"Crucio!"_** She yelled again.  **_"CRUCIO!"_**

Hermione quickly realised she wouldn't be able to keep up the spell for very long. It was too draining, and it just felt so wrong casting it in the first place that she knew she would falter all too soon.

But they were closing in on the rift.

They were going to make it.

Evelyn was at the rift, waving at the others to hurry.

Blackwall was out.

Hawke was out.

Stroud was out.

Dorian was out.

Solas was...stopping.

 _No!_ Hermione thought as she felt her spell falter.  _No, Solas!_

The world began spinning, the monster stopped screaming, and the last thought in her head was ' _oh gods, please don't. No...Solas._

He was running toward her.

She managed to give him a pleading look, and to shake her head.

But he was still running toward her.

Then, everything went black.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Where Is He?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17!
> 
> Let the drama commence!
> 
> Virtual hugs and heartfelt thanks for everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine!

 

-o-

 

 _Well, I’m not dead,_ Hermione thought as her brain began working again. _That’s something._

She wasn’t dead, but she had no idea where she was. For all she knew, she was still in the Fade

It was soft, though. The Fade wasn’t exactly soft.

 _Well, that’s something, I suppose,_ she thought as she was trying to recall what had happened. They were in the Fade, and then…

The monster. She had used the Cruciatus Curse.

And then…

 _Solas,_ she thought, _he was…running._

Hermione’s brain was back to full consciousness in less than a second, and she bolted upright. “Solas!”

She met the shocked eyes of Evelyn. Evelyn, not Solas. Solas would have been here if he could. 

And so, she had to figure out where he was. _If_ he was... No. She was not going to think about that. 

The Inquisitor looked alive and well, thankfully. “You’re alive. Good. Where is Solas?”

Trevelyan gave her a mournful look, and it felt like Hermione’s heart was about to stop as she waited for Evelyn to continue. “Hermione…Solas…he…well…”

“Is he alive?”

Trevelyan gave Hermione yet another mournful look. “Well, he tried to save you, and he…”

Hermione – much to Evelyn's surprise – grabbed a hold of the front of her shirt. “Tell me,” she said in an almost cold voice. “And quickly at that. Is he dead?”

“No,” the Inquisitor said, a little breathlessly, “but he is dying.”

Hermione had a moment where she was about to completely break down, but then she steeled herself, going into the clinical, cold mode she went into in critical situations.

She let go of Evelyn, and jumped out of the bed, swaying for a brief moment, but managed to keep on her feet. “Where is my wand?” she asked as she realised she had no idea where it was.  _“Where is my wand!”_

“In the nightstand! There!”

Hermione tore open the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her wand. “The hell am I wearing?” she murmured as she transfigured the white dress she was wearing. Looking at Evelyn again, she supressed the urge to point her wand at the Inquisitor. _“Where is he?!”_

“The medic tent," Evelyn replied quickly, but then she shook her head, and that ruddy, mournful expression returned. "The healers have tried everything, Hermione, I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m not one of the bloody healers, now am I? Show me where! He’s not dying if I have anything to say about it.”

Trevelyan actually ran, and Hermione ran after her.

It felt like they were running for hours, but it was probably less than two minutes.

They were still in Adamant, Hermione observed. How long had she been out? How long had Solas been dying? Could she save him? Was it too late?

Suddenly, Trevelyan came to a stop, pointing at a large tent. “In there."

Hermione ran in, barely registering how many beds there were there. She was desperately looking for the head without hair, and the pointy ears.

There. In the corner. Surrounded by mages.

She ran over, and shouldered her way through. “Move!” she almost yelled at the mage standing in front of her. “All of you! Move!”

They just stared at her with shocked eyes, and Hermione pointed her wand directly at the mage blocking her. “I suggest you _move. Now.”_

The mage moved, and Hermione focused on Solas, flicking her wand to cast a diagnostic spell.

 _Oh, Merlin,_ she thought as she saw that half of the runes appearing over him were bright red. 'Red means dead', as Ron used to say.

 _Red will not mean dead,_ she thought as she cast another diagnostic spell. _Not this time._

She flicked her wand, vanishing every bandage, every herbal…whatever it was, and every trace of what the mages had done.

Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the state he was in. He had wounds everywhere. His chest was a criss-cross of red, blue, yellow, and…black. He was bleeding internally. His abdomen was swollen.

 _Oh, Merlin,_ she thought as she turned to one of the mages. “How long since he came out of the rift?” The mage hesitated, and Hermione gave her a deadly look. _“How. Long.”_

“Four hours, four hours!”

“It’s a miracle you’re alive, love,” she murmured as she looked at him again. Looking at the runes, she began.

She placed her left hand over his heart, because his condition was exhausting it, and it could give out at any second. That would _not_ be happening.

“I’m glad you’re not awake,” she murmured as she pointed her wand at his abdomen. “Because this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.”

She touched the tip of her wand with the skin on his lower abdomen, and sighed. “I’m so sorry, love,” she said, and drew a line with her wand on his skin. She might as well have drawn with a scalpel, but that was exactly what she wanted. She had to drain the blood, heal whatever was bleeding, and close the wound again.

She heard gasps as the blood began pouring out. "It's an internal bleeding," she said gravely. "The blood needs to be drained, whatever is bleeding needs to - no!"

His heart was giving up. "Don't you  _dare,”_ she said, and sent a jolt to his heart. She had to do it three times, but then it was beating on its own again.

Looking at the wound again, she drained the excess blood, and searched for what was bleeding. 

Everything. Everything was bleeding.

"You!" she said to the nearest mage, "Place your ear on his chest and listen to his heart. If it stops beating, tell me  _right away."_

The mage, obviously too terrified to even ask questions, did as she was told, and Hermione focused on the bleeding.

"Oh, Solas," she said as she moved her wand and her hands over his wound, healing every severed vein, one by one, "don't do this to me. Don't do this to me, love. Just...live."

It took her a while, but she managed to stop the bleeding, so she gently closed the wound again, waved her wand a bit to remove all the blood, and then cast the diagnostic spell.

“Move,” she said to the mage, and the mage was gone in a second, giving Hermione access.

The runes were still red. Except the one for his lower abdomen. That looked healthier.

“But your heart,” she murmured. “No wonder it’s about to give out.”

She quickly healed the small bruises and cuts the lower half of his body, one big, deep cut, and then she climbed into the bed, straddling him so she could place both hands on his chest.

“I swear by everything holy and unholy in the world,” she said to him, “if you don’t make it through this, I will hunt you down in the afterlife and kill you all over again. Do you hear me?”

He didn’t, of course, but she felt like telling him nevertheless.

His heart was weak. _Too_ weak.

 _His heart won’t stand this, will it?_ Hermione thought, hesitating to cast the spell. This spell would either save him…or kill him. Maybe.

She leaned over, looking at his pale face. He even _looked_ dead.

“Don’t you understand?” she whispered to him as she cupped his face with both of her hands. “You can’t die. I won’t know what to do without you, don’t you see?” She hesitated for a moment, but then she leaned down and gave him a soft kiss before looking at him again.

“Don’t you understand?” she whispered again. “You can’t die. You can’t die, because…because I think I love you, Solas.”

Closing her eyes, she focused all her magic, everything she had, everything she _was_ , on his heart, and cast the spell.

 

 

 

 


	18. Solas, I Swear To Merlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18! 
> 
> I really have to mention I'm not a doctor. Wow, I have no idea what I'm doing. So, well, just go with it :p Uh, please? :p
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

 

-o-

 

She had no idea that she had fallen asleep – knocked unconscious by the spell more like it – but she knew she was waking up again. She also knew her spell might have killed the man she loved, and she desperately tried to open her eyes, to move, to…anything.

She couldn’t.

_Magical depletion,_ a small voice somewhere in her head said. _You almost lost your magic._

Well, if it had saved Solas, Hermione would gladly give up her magic.

She would know soon, though, if only she could _move._

It felt like hours before her mind began to wake up enough for her to begin sensing things. Like the fact that she was warm. Her hand was particularly warm, because the surface her hand was on was so warm. And the surface…moved? Like someone breathing?

“I’m on the verge of threatening you again, vhenan,” she heard a soft voice murmur, and she felt something warm against her forehead. “Because, Lethallan, if you have hurt yourself because of me, I will be…upset.”

The ice in Hermione’s veins thawed. Solas. It was Solas’ voice. He was even playing with her hair.

He was alive. He was so alive that he could play with her hair and threaten her.

He was _alive._

Hermione fought off the last of the fog in her mind, trying her best to get back control of her limbs.

_Finally,_ she thought as she felt the control returning to her, and she opened her eyes. Her hand was on Solas’ chest, and her head on his shoulder. He was lying on his back, and she was curled up to him on his side.

_Not important,_ she thought as she bolted upright and turned around in a flash, kneeling next to Solas, practically hovering over him.

“Lethallan, are you-“

“Don’t care. How are you feeling? Any pains?” she asked as she cast the diagnostic spell again – mostly green, thank Merlin – but she couldn’t believe it. He had been _so_ close to death that it was strange how green it was, so she cancelled it, and began looking him over.

She placed a hand over his heart. His heart was beating. It sounded strong, even. She then placed her hands on his abdomen, searching with her magic for something wrong. She found nothing.

“Hermione.”

She turned to look at him, and placed a hand over his heart again. “Solas, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t tell me how you feel, and rather fucking quickly at that, I will undo all the healing I did.”

Solas chuckled as he put his hand over hers. “I feel fine, Lethallan. No pain. Exhausted, yes. But no pain.”

Hermione felt her eyes brim with tears as relief washed over her. He was alive. 

She felt Solas’ hand tighten over hers. “Lethallan,” he said, sounding rather worried, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“You’re not dead,” she whispered. “You’re not dead.”

And then, she leaned down, and kissed him.

She didn’t even think. She just acted. She was so relieved, so happy, so… _everything,_ that she couldn’t do anything to stop herself. He wasn’t dead, he was _alive,_ and she...she loved him.

Solas froze at first, but then – barely a second later – he returned the kiss, entangling his hand in her hair, his arm went around her waist, and he pulled her to him.

Hermione melted in his embrace, and before she knew it, she was practically on top of him, cupping his cheek, kissing him with everything she had.

Until...someone cleared their throat, and Hermione remembered where she was. Where  _they_ were.

She - extremely reluctantly - lifted her head, and was about to look to the side, but then a voice spoke, and Hermione froze, looking into Solas' eyes.

"I was going to see if you were all right, and if Hermione had woken up, but I _clearly_ see you are perfectly fine. I could come back later, if that would be better, yes?"

She was still looking at Solas, but hearing the amusement in Dorian's voice unfroze her, and she leaned down, touching Solas' forehead with her own as she sighed.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head again, briefly registered the amusement in Solas' eyes as well, and then she turned to look at Dorian.

"Oh, shit," she breathed as she took in the scenery. "Oh, shit."

There were at least fifteen people watching them.

_Oh, Merlin,_ she thought as she noticed at least three women and one man with tears in their eyes. "Solas," she whispered, barely moving her lips, "what do we do?"

"Well, vhenan," he whispered softly in her ear, "at this point there's not much we can do."

There was amusement in his voice, and that made everything better, for some reason.

She turned her head and looked at him. "You might be right about that, love," she said, placed a soft kiss on his lips, lay down, curled up to him, and closed her eyes.

"I think that means come back later, Dorian," Solas said in an amused voice before he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her hair.

"I see," Dorian said, and Hermione could hear the mirth in his voice. "Later, then."

Dorian chuckled, and Hermione opened her eyes for the sole reason to give the mirthful Tevinter a stern look. "Go away, Dorian."

"As you wish, My Lady," he said, and after sending a very cheeky smile in Hermione's direction, the mirthful Tevinter walked away.

There were still a whole lot of spectators, though.

Hermione ignored them, and closed her eyes again, and fell asleep with Solas' warm arms around her.

-o-

Hermione slowly came to her senses again at some point - she never knew how much time had passed when exhausted from using too much magic - realising someone was carrying her. Solas, from the feel of the tunic, and the familiar smell – he smelled like summer and autumn, she had no better way of describing it.

She was instantly annoyed. “You should be resting,” she murmured. “Not strolling around carrying me.”

She heard him chuckle. “I’m not exactly _strolling,_ Lethallan. I am merely carrying you to your tent.”

She managed to open her eyes, and found him looking at her with soft eyes. “How long did I sleep this time?”

“Eleven hours after you healed me, then another ten hours, or so.”

“So I have slept twenty-one hours in the medic tent.”

He chuckled. “Indeed. Although, so did I, more or less.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, studying his expression. “Still though, you nearly died. And by ‘nearly died’ I mean; you should have been dead. I have no idea how you managed to stay alive for so long.”

He looked healthy, though. Happy, even. There was this light in his eyes she had never seen before.

“I couldn’t just leave you behind, now could I?”

The softness in his voice left her rather breathless. “No, you couldn’t,” she said quietly. “No, love, you couldn’t.”

His arms tightened around her, and he placed a soft kiss on her temple just as they reached the tent.

-o-

“Merlin’s nickers,” Hermione said as she woke up. _Again._ “How long did I sleep _this_ time?” She opened her eyes and found an amused Solas sitting on the edge of the bed, and she raised an eyebrow. “And when did I even fall asleep? I swear this is becoming an ordeal.”

Solas chuckled. “Six hours, vhenan. How are you feeling?”

Hermione considered this for a moment. She felt fine. Refreshed. Strong. “Healed,” she simply said. “My magic is restored, and I feel fine.”

Solas let out a small sigh. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “Completely. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Like I never was injured in the first place.”

Hermione gave him a dark look as she sat up and climbed out of the bed. “About that,” she said as he headed for the bathroom. “We are going to have words about that. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

-o-

Ten minutes later, she had showered, brushed her teeth, everything one needed to feel like a human being again, and then she headed back to the bedroom, pleased to see Solas still sitting on the bed.

“Now,” she said, giving him a dark look, "that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

He met her eyes without hesitation. “Hermione. Do you honestly believe I was about to leave you to die?” He cocked his head, gazing at her for a moment. “What would you have done if the roles were reversed?”

Hermione sighed. “The same. But that’s different.”

“Why?” Solas asked as he got up from the bed and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Why is that different?"

“Because…” she rolled her eyes. “Because I say so.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, vhenan, it must be true.”

She gave him an amused smile. “See? You get it.”

He smiled back as he cupped her cheek, looking almost hesitant for a moment. Hermione didn't hesitate, however. She had been so close to losing him. Too close. And considering how the end was still just as nigh as ever, it could happen again. There was no time for hesitation.

And so, she kissed him. And the Dread Wolf kissed her back. With passion.

Until...someone cleared their throat.

“I swear,” she murmured against Solas’ lips, “if that’s Dorian again, I will hex him.”

“It is Dorian,” Solas murmured back, and Hermione sighed.

Turning her head, she looked at the mirthful Tevinter mage. “You have five seconds to explain why you are here.”

“You are still perfectly fine then, yes? I’ll just…go then, shall I?”

“Well, that’s one option,” Hermione quipped, “or I could _help you_ leave. I’m rather good at that.”

Dorian grinned. “We are leaving tomorrow morning, if you are well enough?”

“I will see you tomorrow morning then, Dorian,” she said, flicked a finger to push him out the door, slammed the door shut, locked the door _and_ placed a silence charm on the room for good measure.

Before she could say anything, Solas was kissing her again, and every coherent thought ceased to exist. Everything was just…sensations, and she lost herself completely in it.

His soft lips on hers.

His soft hands on her skin.

Her hands on his warm skin.

Their clothes fell to the floor, piece by piece, and Hermione moaned softly when there were no clothing left to remove, and they stood there, flush against each other, skin against skin.

“My heart,” Solas whispered as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Ma’arlath.”

_‘My love.’_

“I thought I lost you,” Hermione whispered back as Solas placed her gently on the bed, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t vhenan. I’m here.”

The world went soft as Solas kissed her, and all she knew was his warmth, his soft skin, his hands and lips, driving her out of her mind.

"Please, love," she whispered,  "I need you."

Solas sighed softly when she pulled him closer, urging him on top of her, but then he stilled, gazing at her for a moment. "La ar nuvenin ne, ma vhenan."

_‘And I need you, my heart.’_

And then, with a soft thrust, he was inside her, and when he began moving, Hermione was lost to the world.

-o-

She woke up the next morning - naked - with The Dread Wolf - equally naked - wrapped around her.

She felt him kiss her shoulder. "Good morning."

Hermione sighed happily. "It is, isn't it? A good morning?"

Solas chuckled. "Indeed it is, Lethallan."

"I seriously need to shower." Solas chuckled, but promptly stopped when she continued. "Do you want to join me?"

The practically feral growl he let out made Hermione's whole body stir. "Yes, da'fen," he said, and she felt his teeth grace her neck, resulting in a most lovely shiver down her spine, "yes, I would like to join you."

-o-

They showered. A bit. For the most part, Hermione spent her time with her back against the cold tiles on the wall, and her legs wrapped around The Dread Wolf’s waist. And after that, they showered again. A bit.

Hermione hadn’t felt this good in _ages,_ she realised as she wrapped a towel around her body, intending to go to the bedroom to find some clothes. The Dread Wolf – wearing nothing but a towel around his waist - trailed after her, which meant that finding Blackwall, Evelyn, _and_ Dorian in the hallway, was just...extremely awkward.

“Oh,” Hermione said, blushing, “hey.”

“Oh? _Hey?_ That’s all you have to say?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, looking at Dorian. “What, do you want me to explain to you why we are coming out of the bathroom clad in towels only? Well, it’s because it’s the new hype. It's called fashion. Get with it.”

Hermione realised Dorian wasn’t looking at her anymore, his eyes were fixed on something behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder.

_Oh,_ she thought. _I can’t blame him._

Solas was standing with the white towel hanging low on his hips, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, and his arms crossed over his chest. There was a small smirk on his face, and his eyes were slightly narrowed, causing his eyebrows to be all sexy. _Sweet baby Jesus,_ Hermione thought and looked at Dorian again. And then Evelyn. Evelyn was staring at Solas as well, and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can we help you with anything? If not, could you let us past?”

“Do you share?” Dorian finally said as he looked at Hermione again.

“Absolutely not,” she replied, and walked past him with Solas trailing after her. “And Dorian, if you so much as _think_ about moving any towels, it won’t be bird feathers in my hair next time.”

They entered the room, and Hermione had barely managed to close the door before Solas’ lips were on hers. “You, Hermione,” he murmured against her lips, “are a magnificent woman.”

Hermione giggled, but her giggle was muffled as Solas pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly.

 

 

 


	19. Rather Ambitious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaaapter 19! I'm getting much better at posting frequently, aren't I? 
> 
> Thank you all for being the wonderful people you are, because wow, the feedback I'm getting is just amazing! Thank you!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

 

-o-

 

The travel back to Skyhold was, in fact, great. Especially because she was riding next to The Cheerful Dread Wolf. He was downright enthusiastic when he spoke, telling her stories, teaching her elven, or just talking, and it made her ridiculously happy.

“Who knew all The Dread Wolf needed was to _get_ _laid_ , and he – mpfh. _Mpfh!”_

Hermione grinned at Dorian. “Neat, wouldn’t you agree? It’s called Langlock, and its purpose is to glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Neat.”

_“Mpfh!”_ Dorian said again. “Mphfmph!”

Solas laughed. “Neat, indeed.”

-o-

Being back at Skyhold was marvellous. Just marvellous. 

They had survived the Fade.

Defeated the Nightmare, and with it; the demon army.

They were all alive.

Solas was alive.

He had almost died.

Almost  _died._

But he was alive.

And he was  _hers._

_For now,_ a small voice in Hermione's head said.  _For now._

She didn't know what would happen, after all. What Solas would do when all this was over. He might still intend to leave. The Dread Wolf had his...duties, after all. At least he thought he did.

_Oh, just don't leave,_ she thought.  _Just...don't leave._

_Don't leave me._

-o-

Halamshiral was still three weeks away, and Hermione was glad to have time to prepare. Not to mention rest. She could really use some rest.

Although, all rest and no work made Hermione a dull girl. She was rarely the one to loiter, after all.

They had barely managed to return to Skyhold before Hermione found herself a project to keep herself occupied.

Curing Cullen.

Rather ambitious, she gladly admitted as much, but she would have to begin at some point.

_Rather sooner than later,_ she thought as she scanned her bookshelves.  _Although I do need some material on Lyrium._

-o-

She was scanning the Skyhold library, and on impulse, she walked up the stairs to Leliana, finding the spymaster there, sitting at a table, looking rather gloomy.

"Leliana," Hermione said as she sat down with her, "you have got to stop this."

Leliana gave her a confused look. "Pardon?"

"This self-hatred. You have got to stop. You have no reason to hate yourself in the manner you do. Remember that I know practically everything. I know what choices you have made, what you have done, and your history. And since I have this knowledge, I know you don't have to hate yourself. Forgive yourself - not that there is much to forgive - nevertheless; forgive yourself. Now, I'm going to try to find a cure for Lyrium addiction - don't tell Cullen, because I have no idea whether it's possible - so I have to go. I just wanted to tell you how I felt. See you later, Leliana."

Leliana just stared after her when she left.

-o-

Scanning the bookshelves again, she noticed someone - someone she had been thinking about quite a lot since her arrival in Thedas.

Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Not to mention - Alistair's mother.

_Wonder if there's a way to reconcile them,_ she thought as she picked a book from the shelf.  _Wonder if there is something I can do._

'You can't save everyone', was that the saying? Didn't mean she couldn't try.

-o-

She was sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by books, parchments, quills, ink, everything one would need for a good research-session, when she felt The Dread Wolf approach her wards. She flicked a finger, opening the door, and he entered.

"Lethallan," he said, smiling, but then he noticed her current state, and gave her a puzzled look. "What is going on here, exactly?"

"Curing Lyrium addiction," she stated, smiling back at him. " _Attempting_ to cure Lyrium addiction, at least."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “That’s…ambitious, I must say.” His eyes narrowed as he continued. “You should be resting, Vhenan.”

“I have rested enough, honestly,” she replied softly, “and this is not draining me. It’s rather the opposite, in fact.”

He gazed at her for a long moment. “Can I be of any assistance?”

Hermione beamed at him as she nodded. “Some assistance would be lovely, actually.”

-o-

“This is remarkable, Hermione,” Solas said an hour or so later. “I honestly believe your idea has merit.”

Hermione was lying on her belly on the soft rug, her nose in a book about Templar history, but looked up at The Dread Wolf. He was reading her notes.

“You do?” she asked, putting the book down. “Already?”

He met her eyes. “This is a new way of looking at it, I believe. That Lyrium addiction is, in fact, a form of poisoning, but a curse, as well. It has merit. How did you think of it?”

“Well, every addiction is a form of poisoning. Usually, it can be flushed out of the system, but since this is a _magical_ poisoning, it acts as a curse as well. This is my theory, at least. I have a degree in potions - Potions Master it’s called - and I have a degree in curse-breaking as well. And to me, this looks like a magical poisoning, so to speak."

He gazed at her for a long moment. “I know you dislike hearing it,” he said softly, “but you continue to astound me. Is there anything you  _cannot_  do? I find myself wondering; however – whenever – did you find the time to learn all this?”

"I never found my place," she replied quietly. "I never figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I kept searching for some purpose, something that made me feel...content. I didn't find it until I came here."

"Because this is where you belong, perhaps."

She smiled. "I'm almost beginning to believe that, yes."

"I'm glad," The Dread Wolf said, ever so softly.

-o-

The next morning, Hermione woke up with Solas wrapped around her, and she had yet another moment where she practically prayed that he wouldn't leave, when all this was over.

_Perhaps I can go with him, if he leaves,_ she thought, snuggling even closer.  _Or perhaps he will stay._

She could only hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. And You Need a Title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20!
> 
> I hate to see Cullen in so much pain. So I totally put Hermione on the case. If she can't figure it out, no one can! xD
> 
> By the way - did y'all know about Grand Enchanter Fiona being Alistair's mum? Because she totally is! There will be a more thorough explanation in a later chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: ain't mine, yo!

 

-o-

 

The following week passed by in a blur of research, brewing, sleeping, brewing some more, and eventually – although Hermione couldn’t quite make herself believe it – they had created a cure.

“This is too easy,” she said as she analysed Cullen’s blood –  _again_  – and finding it void of Lyrium-poisoning. “It’s been  _one week._  I cannot make myself believe that we have created a cure in  _one week.”_

“We will not know until we have tested it,” Solas said, gazing at the phial she was holding. “And I suspect Cullen would be open to the idea of being the test-subject.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll bring the antidote, in case everything goes wrong.”

-o-

"I know we have told you that we have been using your blood in an attempt to create a pain relief for you, and other Templars," Hermione said, giving Cullen a nervous look, "and that is the truth, but not the whole truth."

"And what would be the whole truth?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Cullen," she said quietly, "but we may have found a cure."

"Pardon?"

"A cure," she said, holding up the potion for him to see. "If our theories are correct, this potion will cure your Lyrium addiction altogether."

-o-

No antidote was needed. Nothing was needed, except for the small phial of potion.

“This is too good to be true,” Hermione whispered as she analysed the twelfth blood sample – she had taken a blood sample every ten minutes the last two hours – and found it clean. There was no trace of Lyrium poisoning. “Cullen, how do you feel?”

“I have to agree with you, when you say this is too good to be true,” Cullen whispered back, “because I feel better than...than I have in years.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you have to hold on to that thought. Managing to cure Lyrium addiction in  _one_  week – the mere  _idea_  is basically preposterous. You will keep the antidote with you at  _all_   _times_ , and if you feel sick, you will come find me  _immediately._  We will check your blood every day, and you will alert me if something changes. Other than that…hope. Pray. I cannot make myself believe this. It may return.”

“Even so,” Solas said softly, “we should consider this a victory. If not a  _cure,_  I would call it a major step towards  _finding_  a cure. And  _that,_  Lethallan, is a victory in itself.”

Cullen gazed at the empty phial he was still holding. “What if it  _is_  a cure? It will change the world.”

Solas nodded. “Indeed.”

“You will be a hero, Hermione,” Cullen said as he looked at Hermione. “You already are.”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head vigorously, “that will  _not_  be happening. My name will not be mentioned in any form of connection to this. Give the credit to the Inquisition, but don’t mention me.”

Cullen gave her a puzzled look. “Not many people would let such an achievement go without taking any credit.”

“Fame is overrated,” Hermione said, sighing, “believe me.”

“You seem to know from personal experience.”

“I do. Long story, however. A story for another time.”

Cullen just nodded.

-o-

“So, what is the next on your agenda, Lethallan?” Solas asked later that night, after they had caught their breath and were lying – naked – on their backs in Hermione’s bed. “Who will you save next?”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, I have a theory or two about demonic possession, and how to protect oneself from it.”

There was a long moment of silence before Solas chuckled, and before she knew it, he was on top of her again, kissing her in a way that ignited everything in her –  _again_  – and she wondered if she would ever stop wanting him, if he always would affect her in this way. Hopefully; no, she wouldn’t, and yes, he would.

“Is it a god-thing?” she said, breathlessly, as she felt that he was just as ignited as her. “This seemingly never-ending stamina of yours?”

“Why do you ask?” The Dread Wolf replied, just as breathlessly, but at the same time wickedly. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” she moaned, just as he entered her with a soft thrust, causing her to dig her nails into his back, and wrap her legs around his waist.  _“Merlin,_  no.”

He stilled for a moment, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her with soft eyes. “I am glad, vhenan,” he said before he began moving, and Hermione was lost in sensation.

-o-

There was no sign of the Lyrium poisoning returning, but Hermione checked on Cullen every day for the next seven days.

It was still too good to be true. It was just  _too_  easy.

He was looking healthier than ever, though, not to mention happier.

Hermione just prayed that he would continue feeling that way.

-o-

Six days until the ball, and three days until they would leave. Hermione was happy that the journey was only three days. She was generally not looking forward to the whole ordeal, and a long journey would just make the whole thing worse.

"You need a proper backstory," Cullen said one morning as they were gathered around the war table. "And you need a title."

Leliana nodded. “Definitely. People already know who you are, and that you have a vital role in the Inquisition, but we need to make it official.”

Hermione wanted to object. She honestly did. But, she did realise they were right. “I reluctantly agree,” she said, sighing. “What do you suggest?”

-o-

A while later, Hermione was shaking her head rather vigorously. “No, no, no! That’s too much!”

“I would say it’s not enough,” the Inquisitor replied. “You are already the one in charge, quite frankly. At this point, I’m just the one running around closing rifts.”

Hermione shook her head again. “Even if that was true;  _First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor?_  That  _is_  too much.”

“Let’s vote on it.”

And that was how Hermione Granger became ‘First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor’.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. The Bloody Formal Suits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21! 
> 
> So, those formal suits they wear in the Winter Palace? I hate them. They are horrible. They had to go.
> 
> I adore every single one of you!
> 
> Disclaimer: as always - not mine.

 

-o-

 

Hermione had eventually agreed to her new title – realising the battle was already lost – but deciding to get _something_ out of the whole thing, she had promised to shut up and accept it, if they only would change the bloody formal suits.

They had agreed, on the condition that Hermione was able to design and tailor _new_ formal suits before they reached Halamshiral.

_Challenge accepted,_ Hermione thought, and ventured to her quarters, set on completing her new task.

-o-

She eventually ended up in the Undercroft – that was the place where all the materials were stored after all – and after chatting a bit with the blacksmith and Dagna, she went to work.

She needed eight suits. They were eight people going to the ball, after all. Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, Lala, Dorian, Iron Bull – Bull’s would definitely be a challenge – Solas, and Hermione.

She decided on colours first. The Inquisition flags were black, red, and white, so Hermione decided on black, red, and silver. Close enough. Silver would look better, after all.

The next challenge was to create eight identical suits, but still design them to fit each person in different ways.

Solas’ was easy. He would definitely lose the ridiculous hat, get a high collar – he looked insanely sexy with a high collar – and there would be embroideries. Lots of embroideries.

Everyone would get high collars of course. But Solas’ would reach just below his ear, while Cullen’s would reach just his jaw.

The collar would be open in the front, and it would look like it was a jacket, more or less, somewhat similar to the Robes of the High Keeper, in fact. Not that the jacket would be _that_ long, it would reach mid-thigh, somewhat similar to an old fashion noble suit. The jacket would be sewn on – like the Robes of the High Keeper – and have silver embroidery borders around the collar, all the way down to the edge of the jacket.

The main colour would be black, of course, but the inside of the collar, and the ‘shirt’ would be deep red, so would the trousers, except for a wide belt – black with silver embroidery borders – and black boots, reaching just over the knee. Black boots with tasteful, discreet, silver embroideries.

On the back of the jacket, the Inquisition symbol would be embroidered, just like the flags when claiming a keep, except the white would be replaced silver.

The design was complete, at least. Next came the tailoring to fit each person.

Hermione began with creating eight plain, black suits, hung them in a row on the left wall, and began flicking her wand.

_Damned Qunari,_ Hermione thought as she frowned at Iron Bull's suit, flicking her wand furiously. She was going to make this work, even if it took her forever.

-o-

She had  _no_ idea how long she had been working when she realised she wasn't alone in the room. And by 'not alone' she meant 'the room was crowded'.

She didn't dare turn around at first, just sensing, searching for clues as to who was there.

Solas, definitely. Dorian, Cole, Vivienne, and Evelyn as well.

_Is everyone here?_ Hermione thought, and slowly turned around.

Everyone was there. All companions, all advisors,  Dagna, and the blacksmith. Not only were they there, they were standing in silence, watching her with awe.

"How long have you been here?" she asked nervously. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"You seemed very...focused, Hermione," Dorian said. "You didn't even notice it when we began piling in."

"The tailors in Val Royal have nothing on you, my dear," Vivienne continued, "and I only pray that you will agree to tailor my next gown."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have been here for ages, haven't you?"

"Ir abelas, Lethallan," Solas said, "but the sight was much too fascinating to alert you of our presence."

"Lovely," Hermione said as she gave them a jaded look. "Well, since you are here, would you like to try them on?"

-o-

"Oh, Hermione," Leliana whispered as she looked at her suit still hanging on the wall. "This is mine, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "That's yours."

Leliana - to Hermione's surprise - looked at Hermione with eyes glistening with tears, and then pulled her in for a hug. “You are a blessing, Hermione,” Leliana whispered before turning back to her suit.

Hermione – knowing Leliana’s passion for shoes – had put extra effort in the boots of Leliana’s suit. The silver embroideries were more detailed than any of the others, and had a small, silver bird – a nightingale – and some small, discreet, silver beads.

-o-

Eventually, everyone stood in front of her, clad in their new suits.

“Damn!” Sera exclaimed. “Now I wish I was going to the stupid ball! I’m totally jealous!”

Hermione gave Sera a small smile, and then flicked her wand – she was in the design-zone after hours of doing it, after all – and smoothly transfigured Sera’s leather gear black, red, and silver, eventually creating a combat-version of the formal suit, more or less.

“Wicked!” Sera exclaimed as she danced around, testing her new gear. “Just…wicked!”

Hermione gave Sera an amused smile before turning back to the suited people next to her.

“Well? How do we look?”

Hermione – while avoiding looking at The Dread Wolf, because the sight of him made her want to rip those clothes _off_ him – smiled at Cullen as she conjured a mirror. “See for yourself.”

“Damn,” Iron Bull said, breathlessly. “Just…damn.”

_I might have done myself a disservice,_ Hermione thought as she glanced at Solas. _Elf or not, he will have more than one noble lady drooling over him._

She didn’t notice the uncertainty in Solas’ eyes as she looked away.

-o-

Solas was a bit quiet later that night as they were getting ready for bed, and Hermione glanced at him, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?”

Solas gave her a small smile. “Nothing is wrong, Lethallan.”

The blatant lie – it wasn’t hard to see that he was lying – made Hermione’s blood freeze in her veins. He was leaving, wasn’t he? He was regretting everything. He was going to break her heart – again – and for real this time.

“Solas,” she said quietly, trying to stop the stupid tears from coming, “please don’t lie.”

He apparently heard the sadness in her voice, because he turned around, giving her an almost sharp look. Seeing her expression, he stepped close to her and put a finger under her chin, tilting her head back so she would look at him. “I’m not lying, my heart.”

She sighed. “You obviously are. Something is going on in that mind of yours, something that is not making you happy. Something is wrong, and that might just mean that you are leaving, that I will have my heart broken, or something equally dramatic, at some point, maybe even completely out of the blue. I would rather just know, instead of going around wondering.”

His eyes widened in genuine shock. “Is _that_ what you think?”

She sighed. “Yes. The only thing I know for certain at this point, is that you will – hopefully – say goodbye before you leave, if nothing else. But a lot has changed since that conversation, hasn’t it? For all I know, you will suddenly regret everything, realise that this can’t go on, that you can’t do this, etcetera, and you will leave, thus leaving me behind. I am more or less assuming that I am currently walking on a straight path, directly into certain heart-break. So when something is obviously wrong, but you won’t tell me _what,_ I automatically assume the worst. To protect myself the best I can, if nothing else.”

Solas just stared at her for a long moment. “Ir abelas, ma vhenan,” he eventually said, quietly. “You are right. Much has changed since then.”

Hermione sighed again. “Yes. And this would be the time where you either confirm my fears, or give me _something,_ some form of confirmation.”

“I cannot promise you forever, Hermione.”

He was about to continue, but she interrupted him. “I am not asking you to. No one can promise that. But some form of ‘I won’t crush your spirit and shatter your heart, at least not _completely_ out of the blue’ would be nice.”

The Dread Wolf was apparently completely taken aback by the turn of events, because he just blinked at her for a moment. “I cannot promise you forever, Hermione,” he said again, “and I cannot promise you that I will not leave. What I _can_ promise you, however, is that if I _do_ leave, it will be because I have no other choice. I can also promise – if it is in my power – that I will come back. Or…you may come with me.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Go out and make some memories for yourself instead, you told me. My way of looking at things is counterproductive. Well, vhenan, you might be right. Thus, I am trying…exactly that. To change my view. And to…make memories for myself.”

Hermione was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t speak. Nor could she breathe, quite frankly.

“The world is changing, is it not?” Solas said as he pulled her close, gathering her in his arms. _“I_ am changing. You are changing… _everything,_ my heart.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and just stayed like that for a long time.

He wouldn’t suddenly leave.

He wouldn’t suddenly change his mind about her.

He wouldn’t suddenly break her heart.

-o-

She didn’t quite know how long they stayed like that, but eventually, the world began turning again.

“Solas,” she murmured, “I am still certain something is wrong. If you don’t want to tell me, I accept that, but don’t lie.”

“It’s ridiculous, Hermione.”

She took a step back, looking at him. “Pardon? What is ridiculous? That I don’t want you to lie.”

He shook his head. “No. No, not at all. My reason for being…withdrawn.”

She gave him a confused look. “I don’t care. I was _really_ upset the other day, because I broke my favourite quill. Then I mended it, but I was still upset for at least an hour afterwards. Everyone is ridiculous, thus, no one is ridiculous.”

He looked away from her. “You obviously did not appreciate my appearance in the new suits.”

Hermione’s brain worked overtime, trying to understand what he was talking about, what he meant by that, and why in the world he would think such a thing. Not to mention trying to work through her utter surprise and confusion that this would be something for him to be upset about. He was an ancient elven god, for Merlin’s sake. Ancient elven gods were not upset because someone didn’t appreciate their appearance.

“What?” she eventually managed.

“I do believe you heard me. As I said, it is ridiculous, thus not worth mentioning.”

She spent another moment trying to understand the issue. “You are upset because you think I didn’t think you looked good?”

“That would be the base of it, yes.”

She had to think for yet another moment, trying to figure out why he would think that. Eventually, she realised exactly why. “Because I kept looking away. That’s why you think that. I didn’t look at you much.”

“Yes. I am not used to this, Lethallan. I am not used to seeking approval over such…insignificant matters. And so you believe something is wrong when, in fact, nothing is wrong.”

“Even so, you are wrong.”

“Pardon?”

“The reason I didn’t look at you much was because I wouldn’t be able to _stop_ looking at you, which would become rather awkward rather quickly. Also, I found it rather difficult to not pounce on you to get you _out_ of that suit, and rather quickly at that, audience or not. _That’s_ why I didn’t look at you. Because you were breathtakingly beautiful, and _completely_ irresistible, you left me _utterly_ breathless, and I have probably set myself up for heart failure at the ball, not to mention competition. The noble ladies will swoon over you, elf or not; they will _swoon.”_

Solas stared at her for a small eternity, but then – without her really knowing how that had happened – she was naked, her legs were wrapped around The Dread Wolf’s waist, and her back was up against the wall.

The noble ladies would definitely swoon.

 

 


	22. Lead On, Reluctant Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22! *hums cheerfully*
> 
> Let's go to a ball, shall we? 
> 
> Disclaimer: totally not mine! (Oh, except for Carlisle! He's mine!)

 

-o-

 

The Winter Palace was grand, indeed.

So was their entrance, apparently, because the whispers reached new heights when they entered.

The Grand Duke was pleased as punch, realising this would be even better than he had ever expected.

After chatting with the Duke, Hermione looked around.

_It's exactly like the game,_ she thought.   _Well, that's a relief._

Hermione realised she was, in fact, somewhat excited. If everything was exactly as the game, she would  _play_ The Game quite brilliantly.

"Lead on, reluctant leader," Trevelyan said in an amused voice. "Because I think you have a faint idea of what to do."

Hermione sighed, but smiled wryly as she headed towards the lady who had lost her ring.

-o-

Hermione was  _beyond_ nervous, waiting for her name to be called.

**"Hermione Granger."**

Hermione took a deep breath as she began descending the stairs.

**"First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor."**

Hermione ignored the whispers, keeping her eyes on the Inquisitor in front of her.

**"Fighter of the Inquisition and Protector of the Herald of Andraste."**

_Did they really need to add that?_ Hermione thought as she ignored the increase in murmurs, and smiled at the Empress.  _Merlin, let’s just get this over with._

-o-

Trevelyan was quite occupied with the nobles, and Hermione went off on her own, deciding to collect secrets, and perhaps even sneak off to the library, to get that part over with.

“First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor,” a male voice said from behind Hermione, “how intriguing you are.”

Hermione put on a smile as she turned around. “You flatter me, Serah.”

“I assure you, I am not,” the man said, giving her a holier-than-thou smile. “Lord Braxton. Pleasure to meet you.”

_Oh, Merlin,_  she thought as she noticed the cunning – or at least the attempt at cunning – glint in his eyes.  _Lucius Malfoy would eat you for breakfast. Hell, Draco Malfoy would eat you for breakfast. Even on a bad day. Poor man._

“Likewise,” Hermione replied, smiling. “are you enjoying the Winter Palace, Lord Braxton?”

“Indeed I am,” the lord said, taking a step closer to her. “And you?”

“It is lovely. I rarely get the chance to attend such events. I must say it is a wonderful place.”

“Indeed,” the lord said again before giving her a look she did  _not_  like. “Fighter of the Inquisition, Protector of the Herald herself. Grand titles for such a small thing.”

_Oh, please,_  Hermione thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I try my best, Serah.”

“Not easy, I imagine,” the lord said, stepping even closer. “Fighter of the Inquisition, they say. I find it hard to believe.”

His hand went to her waist, and Hermione reacted without thinking.  _Shit, don’t make a scene,_  she thought, and managed to not wrestle the man’s arm behind his back, but instead took a firm hold of the hand just before he managed to touch her, wringing his thumb in a very awkward position. “I suggest you desist, My Lord,” she said evenly. “Appearances may deceive, after all. I am fully capable of breaking the bone in your thumb on two places with a flick of my hand. Thus, I  _suggest,_  My Lord, that you keep your hands to yourself.”

The Lord paled. “My apologies, My Lady.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if you will excuse me, I have elsewhere to be.”

She left the pale Lord without another word.

-o-

Within the next hour, Hermione had collected fifteen secrets, 'looted' the library, found everything needed, and was back to the ball before anyone was any wiser.

She delivered the secrets to Leliana, chatted with all too many nobles, and eventually stopped behind a pillar, hoping to catch a breath.

“Well, well,” yet another male voice said. “I was hoping to find the little lady causing all the murmurs.”

_Shit,_  Hermione thought as she met the eyes of an unmasked man.  _This man would probably give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money._

The man’s eyes had this…glint. A dangerous glint. There was actual intelligence behind those eyes, and the way they observed her made her feel rather uncomfortable.

“Well, here I am, Serah,” Hermione said, smiling innocently at the man. “How may I be of service?”

He gave her an amused look. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me, My Lady, of how you managed to appear out of nowhere, and then ascend to Right Hand of the Inquisitor in such a short period of time.”

There was no use lying to this man, Hermione realised.  _Oh, well, let’s stay as close to the truth as possible, then,_  she thought, smiling at the man. “I have, in fact, been around for a while, Serah, but I prefer staying out of the spotlight. And even if the titles describe my role in the Inquisition rather aptly, I did not wish for them.”

“How peculiar,” the man said, gazing at her before inclining his head. “My manners fail me, My Lady. I am Lord Venece.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Venece.”

“Likewise, Lady Granger.”

She cocked her head, gazing back at him. “You do not wear a mask,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I suspect it is because you do not need a mask.”

There was a brief flicker of surprise in the Lord’s eyes before his neutral expression fell into place again. “And what makes you say that, Lady Granger?”

“I suspect you play The Game rather brilliantly without a mask – perhaps even better, because it confuses your fellow nobles.” She paused, searching his expression for a moment. “You weren’t always a lord.” He was about to object, but she shook her head. “Let me rephrase; you chose to step out of your role as a lord for a part of your life. You have not spent your entire life eating grapes while looking down your nose at everyone.”

The Lord raised an eyebrow. “First Advisor, indeed,” he said, giving her a slightly intrigued look. “Perhaps I can see why that is. What else, Lady Granger, would you deduce?”

“The nobles bore you. Their pathetic attempts at outplaying you makes you fight the urge to roll your eyes. The noble ladies swoon over you, but they bore you as well. Your indifference only makes them swoon more. You don’t want this life, but something made you come back. Whether it was a choice, or something forced you, I do not know.”

The Lord was looking at her with an expression of intrigue, mixed with wariness. "And would you oblige me; how do you reach this deduction?”

"You have no mask, and yet, your eyes do not waver when someone looks at you. Your face is your mask. You are not insecure. Your body language, although seemingly relaxed, tells me you are aware of your surroundings. You turned slightly to the side within the first ten seconds of our conversation, so you could have your back to the pillar. No noble would do that. Three women have sent you longing looks, but you have not spared them a glance. Not because you are ignorant of their looks, but because you have no interest. This tells me you have experienced more of life than grapes and arrogance. Thus, Lord Venece, I find myself curious, why are you here? I suspect you are just as reluctant as me to being here."

His expression was completely blank, something that told her she was very close to the truth.

“My brother fell ill, and the illness won in the end. His lungs. My father’s health is frail, thus, my mother is left in a rather unfortunate situation.” He paused for a moment. “She is showing signs of the same as my father.”

“My condolences,” Hermione said, softly, “and I am sorry your choices were taken away from you.” He looked rather annoyed, and Hermione shook her head. “Do not mistake my apology for pity. I do not do pity.”

His expression softened. “If so, I thank you.”

“What ails your father?” Hermione asked, cocking her head. “If I may ask?”

He frowned, ever so slightly. “The healers are finding it difficult to answer. He is…yellow. I do not have any other way of describing it.”

_The liver then,_  Hermione thought. “His skin is yellow?” Lord Venece nodded. “What about his eyes? The white in his eyes, is it turning yellow?”

Lord Venece gave her a puzzled look. “Yes, in fact, they are.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “I am going to ask you a very inappropriate question, My Lord, but I may be able to help, and that is why I ask.” He frowned again, but nodded. “Your father…is there any chance he has…not been completely faithful to his wife? Perhaps an encounter with a…lady of the night, so to speak?”

Lord Venece looked at her with wide eyes. “Pardon?”

“I do believe you heard me.”

He stared at her for a very long moment, but then he sighed. “I believe at least half of the nobles here could answer your question, so why not. Yes. Yes, there may have been an encounter or two."

_Hepatitis,_  Hermione thought.  _Extremely likely._  She thought for a moment. Did she have anything that would cure hepatitis?  _Yes! Yes I do!_

She even had it with her.

Birth control potion. The advanced kind, which would cure almost any sexual transmitted disease  _and_  prevent pregnancy.

“Well,” she said, giving him a somewhat hesitant look. “I might be able to help.”

“Pardon?” the lord said,  _again._

Hermione sighed, pulled the small, enchanted pouch from her pocket, and looked at the Lord. “I will give you this on one condition. You will tell  _no one_  that I was the one to give you this.  _And_  you will tell no one of what I am about to do.” The lord looked utterly confused, but nodded, so Hermione waved her hand, first casting a Notice-Me-Not-Charm, and then flicked her hand over the pouch. “Accio monthly potion,” she whispered, and a rather large phial containing a light blue liquid swooped into her hand. She quickly proceeded to summon two small phials, filling them with the blue liquid before putting the larger phial back into the pouch, and pocketing the pouch again.

She looked at the Lord. He looked utterly shocked.

“Who are you, really?” he almost whispered. “And…how…why…”

Hermione shook her head. “I have already revealed more than I should. Now, if what I think is correct, this potion will completely cure both your father and your mother. If not…I am sorry for getting your hopes up. Remember my conditions,” she finished as she handed him the two phials. “If you should ‘forget’, you will  _lose_  a potential ally, and  _gain_  an enemy you  _don’t_  want in your life.” The lord stared at her, and Hermione sighed. “Hopefully, it will cure them. But I  _strongly_  suggest your father will keep away from the ladies of the night from now on, because that’s where he caught this illness. Your mother caught it from your father. If I am correct that is.”

“How do you – how can you,” the lord stuttered. “Who  _are_  you?”

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione Granger replied, shrugging. “Just Hermione Granger. Now, I am afraid I have to leave. I have…things I have to do.”

“Things? What things?”

Hermione gave the lord an amused look. “Saving the world, Lord Venece. Will you let me know if the potion worked?”

“Carlisle,” the lord said, “do call me Carlisle.”

“Carlisle, then. And do call me Hermione. Will you let me know?”

“I will. I will, Hermione. I…thank you.”

“I wish you luck, and may you enjoy your evening, Carlisle. Good night.”

“Never have I been more certain that our world will be saved, Hermione Granger. I wish you luck. Good night.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. I Was Afraid They Would Run Out Of Punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 23! The ball is on!
> 
> Hermione and Solas will be having a chat in Elven, but like I mentioned earlier - it's not a complete language. Therefore I had to use English for the most part!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

 

-o-

 

_She definitely recognised that I am different,_  Hermione thought as they ventured through the servants’ quarters.  _But Morrigan isn’t just any mage, now is she?_

Morrigan was most definitely not the average mage. And she would be coming with them back to Skyhold. That would be interesting, would it not?

_Perhaps rather too interesting,_  Hermione thought as she threw herself into combat with a Venatori agent.

-o-

They returned to the ball, and Evelyn danced with the Duchess.

Hermione missed Solas. There had been no talk and all combat when in the servants' quarters, and she found herself rather tired of nobles, and in dire need of her Dread Wolf.

She even managed to avoid any conversations, and entered the room where Solas was.

She didn't quite know whether to laugh or be angry when she saw him. Not angry at  _him_ though. The swooning noble ladies, however? Maybe.

_Are you serious?_ she thought.  _Nine ladies? NINE?_

Not that she could blame them, really. Solas was undeniably intriguing.  _Magnetic, more like it,_ she thought as she contemplated what to do.

She had no idea what to do. So she walked over and stepped into the circle of ladies, right in front of Solas.

His eyes softened when he saw her, and she gave him a small smile, ignoring the puzzled, annoyed looks from the ladies.

“How are you, Lethallin?” Hermione asked in elven, confusing the ladies even further.

“Rather tired, I must admit,” he replied in elven, and Hermione could swear she heard two ladies sigh. Again, she couldn’t really blame them. Solas speaking elven – the way the words rolled off his tongue – was honestly something to swoon over. His mesmerizing voice, combined with the soft, beautiful language had quite the effect. It was like a caress, like every word was an endearment, and – probably in the ears of the ladies surrounding them, at least – a declaration of love and devotion. He could probably tell the ladies how much he fucking hated them all, and how he wished they would burn in Hell, and they would sigh and swoon until their heads spun.

“I think I just made it worse, Lethallin,” she said – again in elven – while giving him a small smile. “Ir abelas, ma’fen.”

“You made it worse? How could this get any worse?”

Hermione gave him an amused smile. “The sound of you speaking elven is  _quite_  swoon-worthy, Lethallin. Anyway, I was trying to figure out a way to help you out of this, but I am coming up blank.”

“Is it true he is no manservant?”

Hermione gave the lady next to her a slightly annoyed look, and switched to English so that the lady would understand. “That is most certainly true. He has a vital role in the Inquisition, and without him, the task of saving the world will be a much harder challenge.”  _Shit,_  she thought as she saw the stars in the lady’s eyes.  _That did nothing to help._  She turned to Solas again, and switched back to elven. “I’m here to make everything worse, it seems.”

He shook his head. “The night will come to an end, eventually, will it not?”

Hermione chuckled. “Hopefully.” Thinking for a moment, she concentrated, surrounding the ladies around her in a wave of magic. “You remember every moment with the fascinating elf,” she said in English, “because elves aren’t so bad, after all.  _But,_  you just realised that you  _really_  want to watch the dancing in the grand ballroom.”

The ladies, all with excited expressions, immediately turned around and left, heading for the ballroom. Hermione proceeded with casting a light Notice-Me-Not-Charm on Solas. “There, love. Hopefully they will leave you alone now.”

“Thank you, vhenan.”

“No problem,” she said, but then realised she had more tasks to complete before the showdown with Florianne. “I have to go. I have some more secrets to collect. I will see you soon.”

“Soon, vhenan,” he said softly, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him, and kiss him, nobles surrounding them or not.

She didn’t, however. She gave him a final, soft look, and then walked away.

-o-

Hermione delivered the last secrets to Leliana, and then,  _finally,_  they ventured out in the royal wing, met Brialla, chatted with Florianne, closed a rift, recruited some mercenaries, and then ventured back to the Grand Ballroom.

It took Florianne a moment to discover them, and Hermione quickly grasped the opportunity to sneak up on the bloody woman. She didn’t really feel like battling the power-crazed woman out in the garden, and hoped she would be able to sneak up on her  _before_  she escaped.

Hermione didn’t want to use magic. Other than the pretend-rogue abilities, that was. There were too many people watching, and she had already made enough fuss, thank you very much.

Hermione didn't quite get to the Duchess before the Inquisitor revealed everything, however, and Florianne made her desperate attempt at an assassination.

Hermione stopped behind a pillar. Florianne had to pass by the pillar to get to Celene.

_Fuck,_ she thought as she peeked out from behind the pillar.   _Carlisle, that's a very bad spot for you to be in right now._

Florianne was heading straight for them. And Carlisle was slightly in the madwoman's way, something that would probably not end well for the man without a mask.

If nothing else, Carlisle was out of view for the audience, thank Merlin.

Florianne closed in fast. Too fast. And she had her eyes on Carlisle.

Hermione reacted without thinking. She leaped out from the pillar, spinning around so she was in front of Lord Venece just before Florianne's dagger reached its target.

The dagger bounced off Hermione's protective shield, and Florianne's eyes widened at the sight.

And then, the Duchess shadow stepped.

Hermione spun around, grabbing Carlisle as she did, resulting in Florianne appearing behind Hermione instead. Hermione pushed Lord Venece hard, just as she spun around again, barely managing to avoid Florianne's attempt to grab her - something that could possibly result in a slit throat - and pretend-rogue-stunned the Duchess. She quickly proceeded with locking down Florianne's magic, stunned her again, and knocked her over the head for good measure.

She had the Duchess on the floor, even a knee on Florianne's chest when her companions appeared.

"I do not even know why we came," Leliana said with an amused voice. "We could have just chatted with the Empress instead."

Hermione grinned. "I was afraid they would run out of punch, so I decided to just get this assassination-attempt over with.” Florianne groaned, and Hermione rolled her eyes.  _“Really?_  What does it take to knock you out, you bloody woman?”

_I need to lock down her magic permanently,_  Hermione thought.  _And rather quickly at that._

On an impulse, she cast a Fidelius Charm, sealing the Duchess’ magic away. The only way to unlock it was if Hermione lifted the charm, and that would most  _certainly_  not be happening.

She proceeded with stripping the bloody woman of every dagger – basically anything sharp she could find, including the collar of her armour – and gave her companions a jaded look. “Could you at least go and make sure there is some punch left?” she asked before turning to Carlisle. “Carlisle.” No reaction. He was just staring at her from where he was sitting on the floor. “Carlisle!” she exclaimed, and he almost jumped. “Your belt, Carlisle, I need it. Please. And quickly.”

He finally reacted, and she turned the Duchess over on her belly, placing her knee on the back of the bloody woman, taking the belt Carlisle was handing her, wrestled Florianne’s arms behind her back, and tied her up – even cast a charm that wouldn’t allow her to struggle out of her bindings – turned the Duchess around again, and manhandled her up to a sitting position, her back against the pillar.

“How convenient,” Hermione said as she noticed the belt around the Duchess’ waist. “I’ll just borrow this, Florianne dear.”

Not many minutes later, they had a furious, tied up Duchess sitting with her back to the pillar, and the sight reminded Hermione of a petulant child.

Hermione was sipping her punch, provided by an amused Leliana, and that was when she realised they had an audience. A rather noble audience.

Hermione sighed, turned away from the audience, and raised an eyebrow. “The whole ‘staying out of the spotlight’…I didn’t quite manage that, did I?” she paused to take another sip of her punch before looking at Florianne. “And it’s all your fault. Why did you have to go and try to assassinate the Empress in public like that? You’re surprisingly shit at The Game, honestly.”

“Enjoy your moment of victory while it lasts,” Florianne hissed. “Corypheus will come for you. He will come for you all.”

“I suspect he will,” Hermione replied, "but when he does, I’m  _not_  dancing with him.” Florianne was probably about to hiss something overly dramatic again, but Hermione crouched down, fixing the Duchess with a piercing stare. “You better  _pray,_  you delusional woman, that Corypheus will  _not_  be the one to win this war. I have seen what future we are facing if that happens. And I  _promise_  you, Duchess, it is  _not_  the future you imagine. Here, let me show you.”

_Legilimens,_  Hermione thought, and entered the Duchess mind with force, filling her mind with every memory of the breach unravelling the world, the destruction, the red Lyrium, the horror, the agony, and the constant terror that future contained. Then, she withdrew from Florianne’s mind, and just looked at her.

Fear. That was what Florianne’s eyes were filled with. Fear. Dread. Terror.

“Pray, Florianne,” Hermione said in a quiet, but severe voice. “Just pray.”

-o-

"I just need a few minutes to clear my head," Hermione said a while later, and everyone just nodded as she got up to find a place where she could breathe for a moment.

She did find such a place in the form of an empty veranda, and managed a whole minute and a half of silence before she was alerted to a person approaching her. A magical person, if the signature was anything to go by.

"Hello, Morrigan," Hermione said without turning around. "Fancy meeting you here."

She heard a chuckle, and then the witch appeared next to her. "Indeed."

"You sense I'm different, don't you?"

Morrigan gave her a slightly puzzled look. "Indeed. Tis' curious, I must say."

"I'm not from here, so to speak," Hermione said, shrugging. "It's a rather long and complicated tale, however, and this is not the time."

Morrigan gazed at her. "A vast understatement, I sense."

Hermione chuckled. "You are quite correct." Contemplating what to say for a moment, she continued. “In case something happens to me, Morrigan, I have a couple of things you should know. A couple of things I  _strongly_  suggest you listen to.” She turned to look at the golden-eyed witch before continuing. “One; do  _not_  drink from the Well of Sorrows. You will regret it more than you can understand. Two; Flemeth never intended to take your body. Not without consent. Three; Flemeth is rather keen on Kieran’s spare soul. If you find yourself in a confrontation with her, let her take it. You’ll keep your son, and she will keep the Old God’s soul. We do need to find a way to take her out, though, but that’s something to worry about another day. Four; Grand Enchanter Fiona is Kieran’s biological grandmother. I am – other than Fiona, and now you, of course – the only person in the world that knows, and I suggest you keep it that way. Alistair doesn’t even know. Fiona and Maric were in the Deep Roads, and there, in the never-ending darkness, they found some light in each other, something that resulted in Alistair. But Maric was the king, Fiona was the Grey Warden commander, an elf, and a mage, just to top it off. Maric loved Fiona, and loved his son, but couldn’t exactly acknowledge him fully. Fiona has lived her whole life knowing she has a son who does not know who she is. And she has mourned it, mourned her lost son, she still mourns. Consider it, Morrigan. Consider letting her know that Kieran is her grandson. Other than that; welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan.”

Morrigan just stood there, staring, as Hermione turned around and walked back inside.

-o-

Hermione danced with Solas in the privacy of an empty veranda, kissed him, had some more punch, got five marriage proposals from various nobles, waved at Carlisle as she passed him by, and then they left the Winter Palace.

 

 

 

 


	24. I Read The Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24! Woop!
> 
> I'm not going through every detail and side quest in the game. It's mostly the Inquisitor's Path I focus on! (Dragon Age Inquisition is rather massive, after all.)
> 
> On a side note, since I’ve been so rubbish at posting, I have decided to try to post as much as possible in one go! But this bloody fic has 42 chapters, and that’s a WHOLE LOT of editing! It’s currently 4 am here in Norway, and I should have been in bed a LONG time ago :p Also, I’m getting slightly sidetracked by the noisy tractor outside my house xD The snow is REAL, and so I have a noisy tractor outside my house at 4 am, attempting to battle the snow. Lovely :p 
> 
> I hope y’all are enjoying my fic!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine!

 

-o-

 

Skyhold was heaven on earth, Hermione realised as they entered the gates after three days of travelling. Screw the Golden City. Skyhold was better.

Her bed was heaven on earth. Solas was heaven on earth. Sleep was heaven on earth.

-o-

Morrigan was not so much heaven on earth, Hermione realised the next day, when the witch tracked her down in the courtyard.

“I know you have questions,” Hermione said, sighing, “but the answers you seek…I don’t quite know whether I can trust you, Morrigan. The consequences…they would be rather severe, should my story become public.”

“But…the things you know…these are things you cannot  _possibly_  know.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. But I do, nevertheless. When you figure out where your loyalties lie, I will give you answers.”

Morrigan looked beyond frustrated as Hermione walked away.

-o-

“It’s still clean,” Hermione said later that day as she was analysing Cullen’s blood. “No trace of Lyrium, no trace of anything. I do not trust it yet, though. Not much time has passed, after all.”

“No matter what happens, Hermione,” Cullen said, softly, “you have given me weeks of peace, without pain, without a clouded mind. That in itself is a small miracle.”

Hermione smiled. “Let’s hope it will stay that way, Cullen.”

-o-

The following month was hectic. They liberated Emperise de Lion, saved Solas’ spirit friend –  _saved,_  not just guided it into death – found Cullen’s Red Templar letters, saved the chargers – resulting in Iron Bull being exiled from his homeland – retrieved Dorian’s family pendant, restored Josephine’s family status, located the Seekers, revealed Blackwall’s true identity – Hermione had chatted with him, and he had confessed everything to everyone – helped Sera with her Red Jenny missions, gathered various ingredients for Vivienne, met Bianca, went to Leliana’s old chantry, helped Cole become even  _more_  spirit-y – that was what he wanted – and saved countless of people and done countless quests along the way.

Hermione was rather tired.

Cullen was still clean as ever. It had been two months now, and Hermione almost dared to hope.

-o-

They returned to Skyhold after saving the soldiers in the Fallow Mire - dreadful place - and Hermione sighed in relief as she entered the shower in her quarters.

After showering, she decided to stop by the library, wanting a book about demonic possession. The 'save the mages from demons' project was still very much on her agenda, after all.

She stepped into the library, and the sight that met her made her freeze in her tracks.

Fiona was sitting at the table next to where she usually stood, and next to her...Kieran.

 _Oh, Morrigan,_ Hermione thought as her eyes welled with tears.   _You made the right decision._

The next question was of course; what had Morrigan told Fiona? Had she told her that Hermione was the source of the information?

 _I will probably find out right now,_  Hermione thought as Fiona lifted her head, and met Hermione’s eyes.  _Yep, she knows._

Fiona’s eyes filled with tears. She definitely knew. The mage said something to Kieran, and then she got up from the table, walked straight over to Hermione, and embraced her. Hermione couldn’t do anything but hug the woman back.

“I have no idea how you could possibly know,” Fiona whispered, “but no matter how you knew, I am forever in your debt.”

Hermione sighed as she tightened her arms around the woman. “Please let go of that debt right away, Fiona. You have mourned your son your whole life. A son you  _wanted,_  a son you didn’t abandon, you were forced to give him up. There was no other choice. I couldn’t stand the idea that your grandson was living in the same keep as you, but none of you knew.”

Fiona let go of Hermione and took a step back, looking at her with eyes glistening with tears. “How is this possible? How did you know?”

“That depends,” Hermione replied quietly, “on whether I can trust you or not.”

“I swear. I  _swear,_  with everything in me, by my son, my grandson, I  _swear_  I will never betray your trust.”

Hermione actually believed the woman. “The short version,” she said, “and you should prepare yourself for something that will sound like utter madness; is that I am from a parallel universe, and in that universe, Thedas is a fictional world. There are books, plays, countless details of this fictional world. Well, I ended up here, insane as that is, thus, I know things no one else knows. As for how I know about your son; I didn’t. Not completely. But the whole story with a servant girl being his mother did not feel right. And then I researched the timeline, and found that Maric would have to be rather effective to manage to get someone pregnant, considering how he was barely out of the Deep Roads at the time. I was  _quite_  certain that my theory was correct. What confirmed my suspicion, however, was when you stopped the Inquisitor, asking about him.” She paused for a moment, looking at the gobsmacked expression on Fiona’s face. “I read the books. I read about your journey through the darkness of the Deep Roads. The whole thing added up quite perfectly. Other than that, Fiona, I know how the story ends.  _This_  story. This war. We win. It will take some time, but in the end, we win.”

Fiona pulled Hermione in for another hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for the gift you have given me, and thank you for…everything. Again, I swear; I will never betray your trust.”

“I believe you, Fiona,” Hermione whispered back. “Now, go back to your grandson.”

-o-

The journey to the Temple of Mythal was closing in rather too fast for Hermione’s liking. One thing was the temple in itself, she thought she would manage to deal with that. The thing was; they would encounter Corypheus. Theoretically, nothing  _extremely_  dramatic would come from it, but Hermione suspected – feared – that the ancient Magister Darkspawn would recognise that she was different. And  _that_  was not a part of the story she knew.

 _A week until we leave,_  Hermione thought, lying in the darkness of her bedroom.  _One week._

Hermione curled up to Solas as close as possible, trying to let sleep find her.

 

 


	25. I Can't Take This Tension!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25!
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine!

 

-o-

 

Hermione’s feeling of impending doom did not get any better during the following days. It was rather the opposite.

It was all so…unpredictable. What kind of magic did Corypheus possess? What about the bloody orb? It was rather different, wasn’t it; Corypheus’ magic. How would that affect her? Could he affect her mind? Again; what about that bloody orb? Would that have some kind of unknown effect on her?

_So far, nothing has touched you,_ she thought, trying to ease her fears. _No demons, not even The Dread Wolf. You managed to break the link to the Nightmare, and you tortured a monster the size of a house._

Corypheus was something else altogether though, wasn’t he? And he would – she was pretty much certain of this – recognise that she was something else altogether as well. What if he focused on her? She didn’t know that story. She didn’t know how that would end.

-o-

The day of the departure arrived, and Hermione was rather silent as she got Da'mi ready.

"What if something happens this time?" she said quietly as she tightened a strap on Da'mi's saddle. "What if something changes because of me, and that will ruin everything?"

Da'mi neighed softly, and huffed a warm breath on her hand.

"Let's hope you're right," she said. "Let's hope everything will work out just fine."

-o-

The journey to the Temple of Mythal was...tense. Even Dorian was unusually quiet.

Unnerving, to say the least.

"I can't take this tension!" Hermione exclaimed after three days of unnerving silence. "Da'mi, could you please follow the rest? I need to run."

Da'mi neighed, and Hermione dismounted, ignored Morrigan's curious look, and shifted.

_Freedom,_ she thought as she ran past the rest.  _Freedom!_

It didn't take long before she heard a familiar sound - a familiar growl, in fact - and she spun around, pouncing on The Dread Wolf. He had her - as always - on the ground within seconds, and she growled playfully, something he returned with a snicker.

They continued play-fighting until the rest caught up with them, and Hermione yipped at Dorian.

"Yes, yes, behave, wolf-girl," he said, grinning at her. "Be a good wolf. Be gentle with the birds."

Hermione gave him a growl that clearly told him that perhaps  _he_ should behave, causing him to hold up his hands in defeat. "I yield, I yield."

Hermione snickered again, and ran off with The Dread Wolf hot on her trail.

-o-

Hermione was still in wolf form when they made camp later that evening.

She had to ward the camp though, so she reluctantly shifted back to human shape, followed by an equally reluctant Solas a moment later.

While the rest made camp, Hermione walked around, casting her usual wards, lost in thought as always.

Thus, she was rather surprised as she turned around and found Morrigan standing a few feet away, staring at her with confused awe. “What _are_ you?”

Hermione sighed. “Long and complicated story. Now, I know you like to camp alone, but I suggest you check out the tent before you make up your mind.” Morrigan gave her a confused look, but Hermione just shrugged. “Believe me. Just take a look inside.”

-o-

A while later, Hermione found herself alone with Solas outside the tent, and gave him a playful look.

He shifted before she could even reach him, and she growled in a rather jaded way at him. The Dread Wolf snickered before brushing his head against her in a way that reminded Hermione more of a cat than a huge wolf.

They played a bit, but eventually they lay down, flush against each other, both gazing at the campfire.

That’s when Morrigan exited the tent – of course it had to be her – and just stopped and stared at them. After a long moment, she moved towards them – hesitantly – and Hermione realised her eyes were fixed on Solas.

_She recognises him,_ Hermione thought, and made a small sound, a quiet sound that meant ‘be wary’.

Solas tensed up, and fixed his eyes on Morrigan.

A moment later, he huffed – reluctant defeat, Hermione recognised. Solas realised what was happening.

“You are _him,_ are you not?” Morrigan asked breathlessly. “You are not just any shapeshifter. You are _him._ You are Fen Harel.”

Solas huffed again, and shifted just as Hermione did the same.

“Will you believe me if I say I am, in fact, _not_ him?”

“No,” Morrigan whispered. “No. I recognise you. You _are_ him.”

“Life takes unexpected turns, does it not?” Hermione quipped just as she flicked her wand, conjuring a chair behind Morrigan. “And you should probably sit down before you topple over.”

Morrigan stared at the chair for a moment, but then she sat down, just staring at Solas and Hermione.

 

 

 

 


	26. No More Darkspawn-Worshipping For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 26!
> 
> I totally love Abelas. I may or may not have a thing for ancient elves, apparently.
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine!

 

-o-

 

They reached their destination, chatted with scout Harding, left the horses – and the safety of the camp – and embarked on the short journey to the Temple of Mythal.

“Down here,” Hermione said as she walked off the road and into a hollow tree lying on the ground, “on the other side of this tree-tunnel, there are chests, supplies, and a couple of stray soldiers fighting some Red Templars.”

Hermione was – of course – right, and Morrigan looked increasingly confused as they moved down the road.

"Morrigan," Hermione eventually said in an amused voice, "get your shit together. We are approximately ten minutes from a confrontation with an ancient Darkspawn Magister."

Morrigan stared at Hermione for a moment, but then she nodded. "Tis' true."

-o-

"The Temple of Mythal," Hermione said breathlessly. "Which means incoming megalomaniac at any second."

Hermione barely managed to finish her sentence before the megalomaniac in question appeared.

"Ah, pretender," he boomed. "I should have known you would be here. How appropriate for..."

_Oh, shit. Oh SHIT,_ Hermione thought as the ancient Darkspawn trailed off, and his gaze moved from Lala...to Hermione.

"You have gained a new...ally, I see." Corypheus boomed as he fixed his eyes on Hermione. "How curious. What are you, I wonder?"

Hermione contemplated what to do. Chat with the ancient being? Run?

"Different," she eventually replied. "I'm...different."

"That, creature, I can see. I can feel."

_Shit,_ she thought again as Corypheus moved. Suddenly, the orb was in his hand, and Hermione acted without thinking. He  _was_ about to attack them, after all.

_"Bombarda!"_ she yelled, putting all her force in the spell.

The ancient Darkspawn literally exploded. Hermione knew he would rise again at any moment, but it gave them some time, if nothing else.

Except for the fact that the dragon decided this was a good time to show up.

She froze for a moment, watching as the nearest creature began moving, but then reacted without thinking again.  _"Bombarda Maxima!"_ she yelled, aiming at the bridge separating them from the ancient Darkspawn.  _"Run!"_

They ran.

-o-

Samson and his Red Templars jumped down in the hole just as they entered the temple.

"Well," Hermione said, sighing, "so far so good. Except for the chat I had with him, everything is just as expected. Let's do the trials, so the elven protectors will be pleased with us."

-o-

Hermione had done the puzzles so many times she could practically do it in her sleep, so she just told the rest to wait, and ran across the tiles, completing the test within a minute. The same went for the other two puzzles, and then they headed towards the door.

-o-

Abelas was perhaps even more mesmerizing than she had ever expected. Even  _more_ so, when he fixed her with a gaze that felt like he saw straight into the core of her.

She was about to say something, but then Abelas stepped closer to her, staring into her eyes in a way that made her speechless. "How curious," he said, still fixing her with his eyes, "that the being whom I would deem most worthy for centuries is not of this world."

Hermione blinked, trying to find her voice. "I'm not certain I deserve such praise, Abelas," she said quietly. "Ma serannas, protector."

"How curious, indeed," Abelas continued, just as quietly. "Who are you, I wonder? And why does it feel as if you have been here before?"

"Well, in a way, I have been here before...perhaps. It's complicated."

"I suspect that is the truth," he said, cocking his head, "you may proceed, and you may do what you wish. The Well is yours to drink, or to destroy, I suspect you will make the correct decision."

_You would gain from the Well,_ Hermione heard a voice say, in her mind. Abelas' voice.  _You are different. You cannot be controlled by will alone._

_How do you know?_ Hermione replied in her mind.   _If I bind myself to Mythal, how do you know it won't be different? Perhaps the direct binding will change it? Perhaps that will control me after all?_

_The binding is mind-magic,_ Abelas said.   _Nothing else._

Hermione hesitated for a moment.  _Why are you telling me this? You are the protectors of Mythal, are you not? Why would you want me to drink from the Well without Mythal gaining from it?_

_Mythal is not as she once was,_ Abelas said.   _She is not the same we swore to protect. She is, I believe, a threat, more than a saviour._

_You got that right,_ Hermione replied without thinking, and she literally cringed when she heard the sarcasm in her voice, even in her mind.  _I'm sorry, I mean-_

_I know what you mean,_ Abelas said, and Hermione was rather baffled to feel a genuine wave of amusement from him.  _And you are correct, I believe. Drink from the Well of Sorrows, kindred, and go forth and do what is right._

_Kindred?_

_Kindred,_ he replied.  _There is something within you that makes you...familiar to us, even if this is the first time our paths cross._

"Go, now," he suddenly said out loud. "Go, do what is right. The ones who are here without the right are getting closer.  _Go."_

Hermione didn't think twice. "Ma serannas, Abelas," she said, inclining her head. "May you be free, and  _feel_ free." She turned around, but then turned back to him. "May you find a new name," she added, softly. "I hope life gives you a new name."

His eyes were soft when she turned around again, walking away.

-o-

"What was all that about?" Dorian asked as they hurried towards the Well. "The whole 'silent staring' thing?"

"We had a chat in my mind about the Well," Hermione replied. "I'll explain after we have dealt with Samson."

"I don't even know why I am surprised."

Hermione just gave Dorian an amused look before focusing on the task at hand.

-o-

“I am the  _Vessel_  of Corypheus!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Samson. “Maker’s breath, Samson, you’re pathetic.  _Stupefy!”_

They had the rest of the Red Templars cleared out of the way before Samson woke up again – they had destroyed his armour while he was knocked out – and Hermione found the whole thing rather anticlimactic as she tied Samson up with enchanted ropes.

“I’m almost disappointed,” she said as Samson woke up. “I’m sorry, Samson, but you are coming with us. No more Darkspawn worshipping for you.”

“He will end you. He will come for you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Andraste’s knickers, what is it with the followers of Corypheus and the whole melodrama? What do you expect? That I will suddenly fall down on my knees in despair because you tell me Corypheus will try his best to kill me? To kill us? Get over yourself, Samson.”

She proceeded to stun the man again, and then turned to her companions. “Now, about the chat I had with Abelas. He thinks I should drink from the Well. He thinks that because I am different, because my mind is different – shielded – Mythal will not be able to control me.”

“Wait, Mythal? Mythal lives?”

“Yes,” Hermione said as she turned to look at Morrigan, “and I do believe you have met her, as she uses other names. Flemeth, among other things.”

Morrigan paled. “You told me,” she whispered, “you told me to not drink from the Well.  _That_  is why.”

Hermione nodded before focusing on the rest again. “So, do we place our faith in Abelas’ theory?”

“What else did he say?” Solas said, gazing at her with a dark look. “Because that is not much to go on, in my opinion.”

“He said the binding is pure mind-magic. And my mind is rather locked for the mind-magic of this world.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be on  _Mythal’s_  side?”

Hermione nodded at Dorian. “Yes. But Mythal is not the same as she was once upon a time. The protectors realise this. They realise she is, in fact, more of a threat than a saviour at this point.”

“They are quite right about that,” Solas said, still with the dark look. “Still, it is a risk, Lethallan.”

“It will help us in the fight with Corypheus,” Hermione replied before switching to elven. “And it will help you in your cause, Lethallin. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, da’fen,” Solas replied in elven, “but the thought of you at Mythal’s mercy…”

“I understand, Solas,” Hermione said quietly in English, “but I honestly feel as if it is the right choice. I cannot tell you  _why_  I feel that way, but I do.”

“I really have to learn elven,” Dorian quipped before continuing in a more serious tone of voice. “Abelas seemed to have faith that Hermione would choose correctly.”

“Drink, vhenan,” Solas said quietly, and Hermione nodded, turned around, and stepped into the water.

-o-

She woke up in the empty Well, and her mind was a complete chaos.  _Thank Merlin for Occlumency,_  she thought as she quickly sorted her thoughts, clearing her mind.  _This is like the Matrix,_  was her next thought.  _A vast ocean of knowledge, inserted within seconds._

“Vhenan,  _Vhenan!”_

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and met Solas’ eyes. “Elven history is  _really_  interesting,” she said, resulting in Solas giving her a perplexed look, “other than that, I’m fine.”

Solas seemed to search her expression for…something. “The bond, Lethallan, do you sense it?”

Hermione considered this for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.” Solas’ eyes filled with pain, and Hermione shook her head. “Abelas is correct. It  _is_  mind-magic. I can easily supress it. It does not even affect my outer shield. I do believe…yes, I do believe I can find a way to break the binding altogether. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here, because Corypheus will not be very pleased when he arrives.”

Levitating a furious Samson, they stepped through the Eluvian, and not long after, they were back in Skyhold.

 

 


	27. How Did You Not Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 27!
> 
> Disclaimer: ain't mine, yo!

 

-o-

 

Hermione was sitting at a table in the Main Hall the next day, lost in thought.

"Lady Granger," a quiet voice said. "Hermione."

It took Hermione a moment to recognise the voice, but had identified it as Carlisle Venece's voice, so looked up with a smile. "Carlisle," she replied softly. "Would you like to sit down?"

He nodded and sat down. "My father - my father  _and_ my mother - they are well. Cured. Healthy."

Hermione gave him a happy smile. "I'm  _so_ glad to hear that!"

"I am happy as well," Carlisle replied, "and forever in your debt."

Hermione couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “What is it with people and the ‘forever in your debt’? No, you are most certainly not forever in my debt. I gave you a potion, Carlisle, not a miracle.”

“I believe the healers would disagree with you, as they are falling over each other, trying to figure out how one potion could cure such an illness,” Lord Venece said, giving her an amused look. But then his expression went back to the humble, awestruck one again. “You saved my parents… _and_ me. You saved my life. I owe you my life, Lady Granger.”

“Get over yourself, Lord Venece,” Hermione replied, trying not to roll her eyes again. “You owe me _nothing._ Let it go. I will be happy as long as you keep my secrets.”

“I will not betray your trust, Hermione Granger,” the man said quietly. “I swear.”

She gave him another happy smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

“What are you?” Lord Venece asked, cocking his head. “A mage? A rogue?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s complicated. I’m a…different kind of mage, perhaps? I’m a witch. A very different kind of witch. But I would like to avoid a public display of my abilities, thus, I pose as a rogue. I’m really glad you were out of sight for the nobles, so they didn’t see my shield, and the dagger bouncing off. Anyway, even if I believe you when you say you will keep my secrets, cannot tell you more. I’m just…different.”

He sighed. “I understand.”

Hermione gave him a small smile. “Good. Now, to what do I owe the honour of your visit? Other than the conversation that just happened, I mean?”

“My parents are well, and do not need me at this point. Thus, I am here to see if there is anything I can do to help. The world is on the verge of chaos, I realise this more and more, and I also realise that the Inquisition is what will save us. So here I am.” His expression grew rather wicked as her continued. “Not to mention that I am here to convince you to marry me.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but then got side-tracked as Solas came out of his room further down the hall, walking towards the exit.

“I see,” Carlisle said, and Hermione gave him a puzzled look. “Someone else has already captured your heart, reading your expression.” Hermione blushed, and he smiled as he shook his head. “I can only hope I will find someone, someday, who will look at me in the same way you look at him. He is a lucky man. I hope he knows just _how_ lucky he is.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said softly as she gazed at Solas exiting the Main Hall. “I might just be the luckiest one in this equation.”

-o-

‘Doom Upon All the World’ was the next major quest. The _final_ quest. And said quest was not something one could enable. They just had to wait.

Hermione had realised at some point that with every quest enabled, the conversation at the war table came with it, just as in the game. Thus, Hermione had to be present at _every_ war table meeting. She would recognise the conversation right away, the one where Corypheus attacked Skyhold minutes later.

She almost wished he would just attack. The waiting was driving her insane.

At least the encounter with Flemeth in the Fade would happen _before_ the attack, so she could relax – _attempt_ to relax – for now.

-o-

Cullen’s blood had been clean for almost four months now, and Hermione had, in fact, begun hoping that it was true. That he was cured. They had, however, decided to wait with revealing it to the world. They would probably not make it known to the public until after Corypheus was defeated. The world was already chaotic as it was, and a cure for Lyrium addiction would cause quite the fuss, after all.

-o-

Solas and Hermione were in the War Room, waiting for the rest to arrive, and Hermione sighed as she sat down on the table – making sure there were no mission markers first – and sighed. “The final ‘quest’ is called Doom Upon All the World. I hate waiting for something called Doom Upon All the World.”

Solas chuckled as he came over to her, and she hooked her feet behind his knees, pulling him closer. He gladly obliged, and gave her a soft kiss before gazing at her. “It’s rather melodramatic, is it not?”

Hermione chuckled as well. “Indeed.”

-o-

They were rather busy – Hermione still sitting on the table with her feet hooked behind Solas’ legs – at least Hermione’s brain was rather busy, because Solas was kissing her. Not one of those passionate, burning kisses that could quite possibly result in her being on her _back_ on the table, but soft and gentle, brushing his hands through her hair, cupping her cheek, generally rocking her world in a way that only The Dread Wolf was able to do.

She was completely lost in the kiss. Completely.

Until…someone cleared their throat.

“I swear,” Hermione murmured as Solas leaned his forehead against hers, “if that is Dorian again, I will hex him.”

“It is Dorian, vhenan,” Solas murmured back, “he is, however, not alone.”

“Oh, shit,” Hermione whispered, “it’s _everyone,_ isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

“Would you like us to come back?” Dorian asked, obviously amused. “Or are you able to keep your…hands off each other until we are done with the War Council?”

Hermione braced herself as Solas moved, and she was faced with – well – too many people.

Dorian, Cassandra, Varric, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine.

Dorian was clearly amused, so was Varric. The rest looked…shocked? Surprised?

_They didn’t know? How the hell did they not know?_ Hermione thought as she tried her best to not blush. She failed. Horribly. “We were…waiting, and then…”

“The Dread Wolf decided to ravish you on the War Table?”

Hermione blushed even deeper, causing Dorian to grin wickedly at her.

“Well,” Solas said in a way that made Hermione’s skin tingle. His tone of voice was so…deep…sensual, and yet; sassy. “Perhaps…if given the time.”

Hermione swore even _Cullen_ questioned his sexuality for a brief moment from the sound of Solas’ voice. Josephine’s breath hitched, Cassandra stared at Solas – her lips slightly parted – Leliana was looking at him with glittery intrigue, Dorian was…well, undressing The Dread Wolf with his eyes, more or less, and Varric? Varric was amused.

“You knew about this?” Leliana asked Dorian after an eternity and a day. “Did the rest of you know?”

Dorian looked at Leliana for a moment. “How did you _not_ know?”

Leliana looked at Solas and Hermione with a perplexed expression. “I did not know. How long have this been going on?”

“Since Adamant, Nightingale,” Varric quipped. “Honestly, you call yourself a spymaster?”

“Since _Adamant?_ But that is _months_ ago.”

“I rest my case, spymaster.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes at Varric before turning to the rest. “Did you know?”

Cullen and Cassandra shook their heads, and Josephine…well, Josephine was too busy looking at Solas like she had never seen him before.

_That’s Solas for you,_ Hermione thought. She had thought Solas was utterly boring during her first playthrough, but then she learned he was The Dread Wolf, and _then_ she romanced him.

And _damn!_ The Dread Wolf was an _experience._ When he flipped his ‘smooth-switch’ Hermione couldn’t breathe, more or less.

_Are you suggesting I’m graceful?_

_No. I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate._

Hermione had literally groaned, shouted a bit, thrown a pillow at the wall, yelled at Solas on the TV, and then _moaned._ Literally. His voice, his… _everything_ made it completely impossible to not be affected.

Basically, Hermione had no trouble understanding just what was going through Josephine’s head right now.

_This is like when she saw Iron Bull naked,_ she thought _,_ studying Josephine’s expression _._ _It’s exactly like when she saw Iron Bull._

It probably didn't help that Solas had the  _smoothest_  smooth-switch in world history, but he was also a _god_. Literally. An ancient, elven god, legendary bad-boy-trickster-god. The Dread Wolf.

_The Dread Wolf._ If that didn't suggest that Solas had a primal, animalistic side to him, Hermione didn't know what would.

_I wonder if she knows he is a literal wolf. That he shifts into a huge, black wolf with piercing blue eyes,_ Hermione thought _. That he growls in a way that causes goosebumps on every inch of your body. That he howls at the moon, and that his eyes still sparkle when he shifts back to elf-form._

It was perhaps better if she never found out.

“I was not aware we would cause such a spectacle,” Solas said – _in elven_ – and Hermione wondered if Josephine was on the verge of a heart-attack. “Nor was I aware that they were _not_ aware.”

Hermione gave him an amused look. “Neither did I,” Hermione replied in elven. “But, ma’harel, you should probably turn _off_ your smooth-switch, and stop speaking elven.”

“Why?”

“You are giving our ambassador a heart-attack.”

Solas looked slightly confused for a moment, but then he noticed Josephine’s expression, and a wicked spark lit up his eyes.

“She does not understand elven, does she?” he said in his smoothest voice yet, causing even Hermione’s skin to tingle. “But, yes, you are probably right, vhenan.”

“You are cheating,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow. “Also, you are being rude. _Rude._ What did you just chat about?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow as well. “I told Solas to turn off his smooth-switch before Josephine has a heart-attack.”

Dorian looked at Solas with a mirthful expression. “Who knew The Dread Wolf would be the one to take smooth sass to a whole new level.”

Solas narrowed his eyebrows in that utterly _sexy_ way, and smirked wickedly at Dorian, causing the Tevinter mage to freeze up for a moment, and Josephine to sigh.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she jumped down from the table. “Solas, turn off your smooth-switch and turn down that sass, will you? And Josephine – _Josephine_ – wake up!”

It took a few minutes, but eventually they were gathered around the War Table, discussing actual _war-_ stuff.

Even if Josephine glanced at Solas rather frequently.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	28. That’s Very Cryptic, Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 28! Already? Can it be? xD
> 
> Thank you for being so wonderful. Not to mention patient! Disclaimer – so, totes not mine.

 

-o-

 

Later that night, Hermione found herself on a roof, gazing at the stars. Solas was lying next to her, and they just stayed that way, in comfortable silence.

"Lethallan," Solas eventually said, "I realise something."

She kept her eyes on the stars as she replied. "Hmm?"

"I have not told you," he said, hesitating, "at first, because I was afraid of your answer, of the future, and of everything that fate may have in store for us, but then...because I...take it for granted, perhaps, that you know."

His words should have worried her, but there was this...softness in his voice that made her relax. "That's very cryptic, love," she said, still gazing at the stars, "so I won't know what I am supposed to know until you tell me."

He chuckled. "True." There was a long moment of silence before he continued. "I love you, my heart."

Hermione froze for a moment, because hearing Solas’ silky, mesmerising voice utter those words… Well, who could blame her for needing a moment to process it?

“I apologise for not telling you so earlier, Lethallan,” Solas said, and there was this…vulnerability in his voice that made Hermione snap out of her frozen state. “Was I wrong? Should I not have told you? Do you not-“

“Shh, love,” Hermione said as she turned to her side, placing a finger to Solas’ lips, “you’re not wrong. You’re not wrong at all, love. I love you too, Solas. And I have for a long time now.”

Tension left Solas’ eyes, and he smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Sighing happily, Hermione snuggled up to him before they turned their eyes to the stars again, this time in each other’s arms.

-o-

The next day, Hermione walked across the courtyard, but didn’t concentrate on where she was going. She was _searching._ Searching for a magical signature.

She was searching for Cole. Not because she needed to talk to him, but because this was a game they had started playing at some point after Cole had become more spirit-y. It was magical hide and seek, basically.

Their game was actually quite helpful, they had realised after some time. Hermione got to practice her senses, her ability to sense it earlier when someone of a magical nature approached her.

Cole got to practice how to _hide_ his magical signature, or more specifically how to _control_ it. Becoming more spirit – less human – had resulted in him not quite knowing his own magic, and he had these spikes – waves – of magic, and he didn’t like it.

Skyhold was _huge,_ though, and he could be anywhere. Especially because he didn’t know they were playing. She was just searching for him because – well, because why not.

_He’s on the roof,_ Hermione thought as she finally located him. _The tavern roof._

She stepped behind a wall, disillusioned herself, and apparated to the roof.

The roof was seemingly empty, but Hermione felt him there. She also knew he could sense her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said softly. “How are you?”

She cancelled the spell just at the same time as he appeared out of thin air next to her.

“I like playing with you too,” Cole said in that soft voice of his, apparently catching her thinking about how she enjoyed this, “but I didn’t know – that we were playing – not this time.”

Hermione smiled. “I know. It was just an impulse, in case you were nearby.”

“I was.”

She smiled again. “Indeed you were. Now, how are you, Cole?”

“I like roofs, roofs are comfortable, silent, peaceful, peace, other people don’t come up, they can’t Apparate, but I can – that tree is beautiful – how are you Cole? I really want to know.”

He stopped, giving her a confused look. “You did that on purpose.”

_I did,_ Hermione thought. _Do you listen in all the time now, Cole? Since you became more spirit?_

“Yes. Yes, I listen.”

“Do you choose to listen, or is it more an automatic thing now? A thing that just happen?”

“Just happens. Happens when I want to help, heal, hear. I listen, learn, I learn, so I can help.”

“I like that you have become more spirit, Cole,” Hermione said. “Because I like that you made that choice yourself, instead of letting others choose for you. I do, however, think that you should try to find a way to _not_ listen, find a way to _choose_ when you want to listen. Some people don’t want you to listen – Iron Bull, for example – he likes you, he really does, but when you describe his nightmares out loud, he is afraid.”

“But I want to help.”

“You can help, Cole, whenever you want. You can _choose_ to listen, instead of experiencing every thought of everyone around you.” She paused. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m a spirit.”

“For the most part; yes. But a part of you is human, Cole, and that part…aren’t you tired?”

“Sleep, darkness – soft – Solas – I need – need him, I will be alone. I don’t want to – Cole, stop it. Choose to don’t listen. Next you’ll be describing _very_ private moments, and that is – private.”

Cole stopped again. “But…but I…”

Hermione nodded. “I know, Cole. But if you do that, I will have to occlude. And you don’t like when I do that. I choose to let my mind be open for you, Cole. You know how much I dislike it when people are in my head, and yet, I choose to let you in. I lower _all_ my shields when I am with you. That is my token of respect, and trust in you, Cole.”

Cole gazed into empty air for a moment. “It’s true – the shields, my shields – they are down, all, I never do that – scared, dangerous – token of trust – true, didn’t know how true – spirit, Cole – he does help me – with trust – relax – he helps, I didn’t realise – but he helps.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“I help you. But I can’t help you. So much pain, balls of pain inside, but you won’t let me help.”

Hermione shook her head. “Those ‘balls of pain’ aren’t exactly balls of pain, Cole. They are grief, painful memories, sorrow, and regret. They are a part of me, Cole. There was so much darkness in my youth, I lost so many friends in a dark war, and I want to keep my grief over them. My grief keeps their memories more vivid, and it lets me remember them with joy, but also with sorrow. Take away the sorrow, and you take away a part of them, somehow. I want to grieve over lost friends. My grief is not _pain,_ Cole, it’s just grief.”

“The ball of pain is two halves – one joy, one sad – completing each other. They are not balls of pain to break, to release. They are not balls of wrong.”

“Exactly, Cole. I don’t need help with those. What I do need help with, however, what I am afraid of, is losing control of my mind. But I want to be able to not keep my thoughts shielded _all the time._ You help with that. But only if you are able to stop listening when there is something really private.”

“I will learn.”

“That’s great, Cole.”

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Murder, In Fact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 29!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

Carlisle had found his place in the Inquisition. He helped Josephine with the nobles. Josephine spent ridiculous amounts of time discussing with the nobles visiting, about rooms, food, and all the small - not to mention unimportant - things that nobles found crucial in their lives. Never mind that there was an evil megalomaniac on the loose, trying to break the world, but the lack of that one particular wine?  _That_ was a major issue.

Carlisle had a way with the nobles - flipping their opinions upside down without them realising it.

He played The Game - brilliantly - and the nobles didn't even realise.

The fact that he was a lord did help a lot as well. Hermione learned – from Josephine – that the Venece family was rather high in the noble society, and thus, the nobles visiting Skyhold wanted to please the man. Carlisle was rather perfect for the role.

-o-

She was sitting at a table in the Main Hall with Carlisle, updating the list of nobles visiting, or would visit soon, while eating perfectly sliced fruit – perfectly sliced for the nobles – when Solas emerged from his chambers. Carlisle was sitting with his back to Solas, but did – apparently – notice how Hermione’s expression softened.

“Will I ever figure out  _who_  this person is? This person who changes your whole being in less than a second?”

Carlisle had yet to figure out this – who made Hermione’s eyes soften – because the hall was full of people at all times, and Solas didn’t exactly linger there. He exited his chambers, and was out of the Main Hall within fifteen seconds or so.

Also, Solas was an elf. Carlisle didn’t expect this, she suspected.

Not that he had anything against elves. Not at all, in fact. He treated the elves no different than anyone else, a rare trait for a noble.

Hermione blushed slightly as she met the lord’s eyes. “Probably,” she said, giving the man an amused smile, “but isn’t it fun to have a mystery to contemplate in the meantime?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s thrilling, indeed.”

Hermione looked up, and realised Solas was not out of the hall. He was heading towards her, in fact, and she gave him a soft smile which he returned.

“Your thrilling mystery is over, I believe,” she said before turning to look at Solas. He reached their table a few moments later. “Hello, love.”

“Lethallan,” Solas replied softly before looking at the lord across the table from Hermione. “Carlisle Venece, I assume?”

After some polite chitchat – Hermione was surprised to see that Solas and Carlisle actually clicked rather well. There wasn’t even a second of awkwardness.

Solas looked at Hermione, and she cocked her head. “Do you want to sit down? Or was there something in particular?”

“The latter,” he said, and hesitated for a moment. “I have some news. Does the lord know elven?” Solas asked – in elven – and Hermione shook her head.

“No, not unless he has been lying about it on several occasions. Let’s test, shall we? If you could look at his reaction? He’s rather good at keeping a smooth mask, though,” she said, glancing at Carlisle.

He did  _not_  look like he understood a thing, but then again, the man was rather apt at keeping up appearances. “I’ll tell you something, noble man,” she said in elven, keeping her eyes mostly on Solas. “Approximately one hour ago, I was naked, up against a door, and had my legs wrapped around the waist of this lovely elf here.”

She had to stifle a laugh when Solas was the one to be caught off-guard. “Any reaction?” she asked, giving her elf an amused look. “Even the slightest?”

“Not even a hint, Lethallan.”

Hermione nodded before looking at Carlisle. “We are not talking about you. And I am sorry for being so rude and secretive, but chatting about inner circle Inquisition things in the middle of the Main Hall is rarely a good idea.”

Carlisle’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Clever,” he said. “Very clever, in fact.”

Hermione gave him a smile before looking at Solas again. “Now,” she said in elven. “what is it we are being rude and secretive about?”

“Murder, in fact,” Solas said, and Hermione’s eyes widened. “Three elven servants have been murdered.”

“When?”

“Within the last two hours.”

“And what of the murderer?”

Solas shook his head. “On the loose. The servants were, however, killed with magic. Lightning, from what we could see.”

“Well, that narrows down the suspects quite a lot,” Hermione said. “We are basically looking for an elf-hating mage, in other words.”

“It would seem that way, yes.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“It is a start. Now, I must go aid the search for the murderer.”

Hermione nodded. “I will aid as well. Let me finish this – five minutes top – and I will be there.”

“We are spreading out, but the hallways and rooms farthest away – at the other side of the garden – no one is assigned to at this point.”

“I will go there, then.”

He gazed at her for a moment. “Be careful, my love,” he said softly before turning to walk away.

Hermione grabbed his sleeve, and he turned around to look at her. “I’m no elf.  _You_  however, are. Be  _careful,_  my heart. I love you, Solas. I love you, and thus,  _be_   _careful.”_

He looked somewhat taken aback, but then he nodded. “And I you, ma sa’lath. And I will be careful.”

She watched him walk away, took a deep breath, and turned back to Carlisle.

He was staring at her in fascination. "I have absolutely no idea of what you were talking about, and still; that was one of the most heartfelt, genuine displays of - well,  _love,_ quite frankly - I have ever seen. He does, I believe, know how lucky he is. And if I ever find someone who looks at me and talks to me in the way you look, and talk to each other - if I ever find  _half_ of that - I will be a happy man. Now, I assume there is some form of emergency that requires your attention; something dangerous if your worried expressions are anything to go by - I am quite certain that you told him to be careful when you grabbed his sleeve - and thus, let's finish this."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, but then she just nodded, and focused on the list.

 

 


	30. It’s All About Practice

 

-o-

 

Hermione walked carefully through the halls at the end of the garden. This part of the keep was still in the process of being repaired and restored, thus, the place was practically empty. The workers had finished for the day, and it was unnervingly quiet, causing her to tense up even more.

She was disillusioned, and with all the practice with Cole, the chance of someone managing to sneak up on her was rather small.

Not to mention she had no idea what – who – she was looking for. A mage – most likely – with lightning magic, or a staff with electricity, not an elf – again, most likely – not a dwarf, if the theory that she was looking for a mage was correct. Dwarfs didn’t have mages. They had no magic. Not a dwarf, nor an elf, not a Qunari – they would probably notice if a Qunari showed up – thus, the most logical conclusion was that she was looking for a human being.

_Were there any human mages among the recent arrivals? Or has one of the mages already here gone on a sudden killing-spree?_

It would seem logical that the assassin was among the recent arrivals – not that she was about to believe that blindly – but it _did_ seem rather likely.

 _Why do people insist on closing every bloody door?_ Hermione thought as she closed in on yet another closed door, to yet another empty room. Invisible or not, opening a door would give away that there was someone there.

 _This room isn’t empty,_ she thought as she heard voices from inside the room. Not to mention that she felt a magical signature. No, _two_ magical signatures.

_And four voices. Wonderful._

Hermione contemplated how to approach this. Should she get help? The people inside the room could be gone by the time she came back.

She could open the door while still invisible, but that would cause them to be on guard.

 _Most people know who I am,_ she thought as an idea fell into her head. _I could just barge in, fuss over how sorry I am for disturbing them, and then – catching them off-guard, hopefully – take them down._

A second later, everything changed.

Someone was screaming. _Screaming._

“Shut your mouth, filthy knife-ear,” Hermione heard an angry voice exclaim, “or else I’ll shut it for you! And you won’t like that, believe me!”

Hermione made a quick decision, cast Protego with her left hand, holding the shield active in front of her, unlocked the door with a flick of her wand, and threw the door open, making sure it slammed into the wall, startling them, and used the moment where they were startled to take in the scene in front of her.

A young elven girl was tied to a chair with her side to Hermione, bleeding on several places, and around the terrified girl, three men and one woman, looming over her.

The woman – standing behind the chair – and the man nearest to Hermione were mages. The man to the left of the girl was a…rogue. He had shiny daggers, at least. Shiny daggers could mean that they weren’t used much, so hopefully that was the case here. The third man was a…warrior. Big sword. Warrior.

Female mage first – her staff and robe was high-level stuff, thus, she was – theoretically – the biggest threat. Male mage second – they could freeze, kill, stun, generally a whole lot of impractical things, from a distance. Rogue third, warrior last.

She had to be careful, though. The rogue had shadowstep, and the warrior had charge. She had to be careful, and move a lot.

The female mage had her staff in her hands with impressive speed, and Hermione dodged a lightning spell.

_“Stupefy!”_

The female mage was thrown backwards, into the wall, and Hermione would have at least a minute before the woman woke up again.

 _“Stupefy!”_ she yelled again, but the male mage managed to dodge her spell, throwing a barricade of firespells back at Hermione. Her shield held, however, and after another stupefy, the male mage slammed into the wall, falling into a heap on the floor.

The rogue shadowstepped, the warrior charged, and Hermione realised she was about to be trapped between them.

She apparated in a flare of grey smoke to the other side of the room, and it gave her a moment to take them out, because they were momentarily confused, looking for her with frantic eyes.

She managed to knock out the rogue just as the warrior found her, and charged.

_“Stupefy!”_

The warrior was thrown back, landing with a crash on his back on the floor.

Hermione spun around to the female mage, finding the woman still unconscious.

It wouldn’t last, however, and Hermione had to act fast. The problem was that she had to keep four people unconscious at the same time. And keeping up four Petrificus Totalus at the same time was not a good idea.

Petrificus Totalus on the female mage. It would keep her knocked out for a while.

Next was the male mage. She frantically contemplated what to do while flicking her wand, disarming both the rogue and the warrior.

“Accio Draught of Living Dead!” Hermione exclaimed while wringing open her pouch. The potion popped up, and Hermione uncorked it while running over to the mage. She forced open the mouth, poured a suitable amount, and massaged his throat to make him swallow.

A few moments later, the man was as if he was dead. Unnerving potion.

She had enough for one more, and repeated the procedure on the rogue before turning to the warrior.

Warriors – without a sword and shield – were just men, and right now, the man was no threat. She had to find a way to keep him unconscious, though.

 _“Immobulus,”_  she eventually hissed, leaving the man immobile.

The elven girl whimpered, and Hermione hurried over to her, glad that the chair was placed where she could keep an eye on the four unconscious people in the room.

"It's going to be alright, da'len," Hermione said in elven, "I promise."

The girl looked at her with wide eyes, probably not expecting hearing elven.

Hermione untied the girl, and looked her over. "You're bleeding, da'len. You are losing too much blood."

 _Those cuts are deep,_ Hermione thought with disgust as she flicked her wand, healing the wounds, one by one.  _What's wrong with people? Torturing a fragile, young girl, just because she has pointy ears._

"There, da'len. Your wounds are healed."

 _Now what, though?_ Hermione thought. She couldn't exactly leave the room, not with the four assholes on the floor.  _Well, this will result in a whole lot of explaining._

"Expecto Patronum," Hermione said with a clear voice, and the silver Dread Wolf appeared. She focused on the silver wolf. "Find Solas. Quickly.  _Quickly._  Stay out of sight for anyone but my friends. Tell him; this is Hermione. I am on the second floor of the garden part, the second to last room. I am unharmed, but I need you.  _Quickly._ Bring someone if you can, but the  _quickly_ part is more important. Again; I'm unharmed, and in no immediate danger, but I need assistance. Now. Please hurry, Lethallan."

The silver wolf spun around in the air, and sped away in a streak of silver.

Hermione turned to the girl again. "I can't leave the room, da'len," she said in elven. "In case they wake up. You are free to leave on your own, of course, but I  _promise_ you I will keep you safe. They will  _never_ touch you again."

The girl stared at her, wide-eyed, but eventually nodded.

-o-

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. She had four people to keep unconscious, something she had been fine with, if only the frail girl wasn't there. If anyone woke up, the girl would go straight back to being terrified, Hermione was completely certain of that. And she  _really_ didn't want to cause the girl anymore fear.

 _Finally,_ she felt a familiar magical signature approaching, and sighed in relief.

"Hermione?  _Hermione!"_

Hermione flicked her wand, sending a few sparks out the door. "In here!"

Solas entered the room a few moments later, eyes wide with fear.

"I'm perfectly fine, Lethallan," she said, and saw him relax ever so slightly. She gestured at the fragile being in the chair. "But she is not. Also, I have four people I need to keep unconscious."

Solas seemed to suddenly wake up, and noticed the scene in the room. "You decided to take on four people at once. Foolish woman."

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "What, I should have let them torture her into oblivion while I strolled around Skyhold, looking for someone to help me? Stop being Captain Hindsight, Solas. This is  _definitely_ not the time for this ridiculous discussion. You will bring the girl, and go...somewhere. Anywhere but here. Then, you will find someone,  _anyone,_ soldiers, something, and come back."

"I'm not leaving you, Hermione."

"You most definitely are. Unless you can keep four people unconscious? Or knock them out if they all wake up at the same time?" He gave her a reluctant look, and she continued. "That's why I need to stay here. But I need to get the girl out. She has experienced enough trauma for a lifetime. And it's harder to focus with her in the room." She turned to the girl. "Go with Solas. He will bring you away from here. It's going to be alright."

The girl nodded, and Hermione helped her up from the chair, just to realise that the girl wasn't able to stand. "Solas," she said, supporting the girl as best she could. "She has lost a lot of blood, and she is too weak to walk."

Solas had the girl in his arms a moment later, and gave the frail elf a soft look. "They will not hurt you again, emm’asha,” he said before looking at Hermione. “Dareth, vhenan.”

“Yes, love, I will. Now, _go.”_

Hermione felt like she could finally breathe again as Solas carried the girl out of the room. Keeping the four people unconscious was not really an issue. She would manage that just fine. Doing that _and_ keeping the girl safe, however, that was more difficult. Or, keeping her _safe_ wasn’t really the issue either.

Hermione knew how it felt to be tortured, and the all-consuming terror it brought with it. If she had been forced to sit in that room, looking at her torturers – even if unconscious on the floor – for a lengthy period of time afterwards, she would have been frozen in fear. And if one of them began waking up? She didn’t even want to think about it.

And _that_ was why it was so important to get the girl out.

-o-

She was actually rather relaxed by the time Solas came back. She was sitting in the chair, her feet on a small table, gazing at the four limp bodies on the floor.

She was, by this point, decorating them, more or less. She had begun with tying them up, but when they looked more like mummies than anything else, she had begun flicking her wand absently, making a bowtie here, a fancy looking knot there, and by the time Solas entered with Trevelyan, Dorian, and Varric trailing behind him, Hermione was humming while drawing fiery trails in the air – using Flagrate – but cancelled the spell as they entered.

They stopped, taking in the scene in front of them. “So,” Dorian said, “perhaps we could get an explanation of what exactly happened here?”

-o-

Hermione sighed as she entered her quarters late that night. Solas had been rather quiet, and she expected a discussion circling the subject ‘how dare you risk yourself like that, foolish woman’ so when he didn’t say anything, she was puzzled.

“Solas,” she said as she entered the bedroom after him, “are you planning on speaking to me any time soon? Because this is getting _quite_ unnerving. I would, in fact, prefer to hear a detailed explanation of foolish I am, over this.”

“That’s the thing, is it not?” he finally said as he turned around to face her. “You are not the foolish one. I am.”

“What?”

“What you did today was not foolish,” he said, but paused to give her a somewhat jaded look. “Well, as far as ‘not foolish’ describes a situation where you throw yourself against four enemies _while_ protecting someone. The point is; you emerged from that situation without a scratch. Not because you were lucky, but because you _are_ able to deal with four enemies at once. If you had been harmed today, it would be because of bad luck, not because you made a foolish decision. And bad luck may happen, even when faced with only one enemy.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Thank…you? Perhaps? What are you trying to say?”

 _“I_ was the foolish one today, Hermione. I was not thinking clearly. A girl was hurt, but my mind was focused on all the things that _could_ have gone wrong.” Solas sat down on the bed before continuing. “I will end up causing you to come to harm.”

There was something in his tone that made Hermione’s blood go cold. “Don’t you dare,” she said, resulting in an utterly confused look from Solas. “This is another ‘I will only cause you pain, you would be better off without me’ conversation, isn’t it?”

The defeated look Solas gave her told her everything she needed to know. “Well, if you could just stop that chain of thought right away, that would be great.”

“Lethallan,” he said quietly, “don’t you see?”

She shook her head, interrupting him. “Quit it, Solas. I mean it. It took you approximately one minute to clear your head. It’s all about practice. Keeping a clear head, even with a loved one fighting alongside you, is all about practice. Thus, this is not one of the situations where I would be better off without you.”

Solas sighed, but then he got up, pulled her close, and kissed her.

Thank Merlin.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	31. 9032 Years, and Still Going Strong!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 31! Woop!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, y’all!

 

-o-

 

 “We are taking a day off,” the Inquisitor said one morning at the War Table. “and tonight will be Wicked Grace, mead, wine, and friends, for those who want to come.”

“That sounds  _perfect,_  in fact,” Hermione replied as she gave Trevelyan a happy smile.

-o-

"Well, this will cost me, I suspect," Hermione said later that night as she picked up her cards. "Since this is the first time I play Wicked Grace."

Varric chuckled. "Remember, cheating is allowed...as long as you don't get caught. Getting caught means you lose the hand by default."

"Cheating is allowed; check. Are there any cheating-guidelines? Are there limits?"

"Your limit is where your creativity ends," Varric replied, smirking at her. "In other words; get creative."

_Challenge accepted,_  Hermione thought, giving Varric an amused smile.

-o-

_Dorian is using magic!_  Hermione thought a while later.  _Is that allowed?_

Everything is allowed, that was the rule, wasn’t it?

It would have been so easy.  _So_  easy, using Legilimency on her opponents. She could easily slip into anyone’s mind without them noticing. A mere brush of the surface, and she would know what cards the person had.

It would be boring, though.

_Should I bust Dorian?_  was her next thought.  _No. I’ll put focus on the whole cheating-with-magic-thing then._

-o-

Hermione played rather safe for the first hour or so, wanting to actually  _learn_  the game before ‘getting creative’ as Varric suggested.

_Learn the rules carefully, so you can break them properly,_  Hermione thought as she folded yet another hand.  _Well, the game isn’t exactly rocket science. Nor are the rules. Let’s see if I can break them properly, then._

Hermione was pleased as punch – she didn’t let it show, though – to see that her next hand was a rather good one.  _Let’s break some rules,_  she thought, and placed a bet on the table.

“Oh you daredevil, you! I’m in.”

Hermione gave Dorian an amused smile just as she brushed the surface of his mind. Not so deep that she would know what cards he had, but so she could get a faint sense of how he was feeling.

Confident. He felt confident. He had a decent hand, at least, then.

Varric joined in as well, and eventually the three of them was faced with the final round of betting. Hermione brushed the surface of Varric’s mind. He was…less confident than he looked.

_He probably had a good hand to begin with,_  she thought,  _but then he didn’t get any of the cards he needed._

Varric was bluffing. For the most part, at least.

Hermione glanced at her cards. Her hand was a good one. It had begun as a good hand, and then she got two more cards she needed, resulting in a hand that had potential to win this round. And the pot, not to forget. They’d had several rounds of betting, and the pot was rather excessive at this point.

_That_  was why Varric hesitated to fold, wasn’t it? Because he had already invested so much of his gold into this pot that folding now would be rather bitter.

He didn’t fold, and Hermione inwardly smirked.

She brushed over Dorian’s mind. He had already declared that he was in until the end, and was sitting leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed as ever.

His mind, however, his mind told a completely different story. Dorian was  _bluffing._  Probably on a whole new level.

Hermione strongly suspected that her hand was the best hand, and after pretending to contemplate whether she should bet or not, she sighed. “Alright, I’m in.”

A minute or two later, Hermione had something that looked like a small pirate-treasure in front of her on the table.

It was actually a decent sum of money, she realised as she looked at it. Not that she needed money, because the content of her Gringotts vault was rather excessive, and since she was in the process of moving her fortune to a new, bigger vault – the goblins had to lift the heavy enchantments, and then place them on her new vault, something that would take two days, and Hermione had just decided to carry her fortune with her for those two days, instead of it lying in an unprotected vault.

Breaking into Gringotts  _was_  possible, after all. She knew from personal experience.

Before she could return her fortune to Gringotts however, she had landed herself in Thedas.

She had no idea how much gold she had, but she would probably be able to buy the Winter Palace, if she should wish.

“Lethallan,” Solas said, nudging her with his elbow, “your turn.”

“Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought,” she said, picking up her cards. Another good hand.

-o-

“You’re cheating, I  _know_  you are,” Varric said an hour or so later. “But  _how?”_

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Hermione replied as she collected her small pile of coins, adding them to the rather vast amount she already had.

It wasn’t like she was always winning. She was wrong sometimes, and every time she found herself faced with The Dread Wolf, she was in trouble. She didn’t dare enter his mind, because there was a slight chance he would feel it, and then her game would be up. She tried to read his body language instead, she did know him rather well by now, after all, but found it practically impossible.

The fact that she'd had four glasses of wine and one oversized mug of mead did nothing to help.

She had just folded, and realised the two still remaining was Solas and Josephine.

Hermione could  _see_ the moment when Solas turned on his smooth-switch.

Josephine didn't. Not right away. She was focused on her cards, but when she looked up, meeting Solas' fixed gaze - fixed on  _her_ nonetheless - she almost hiccupped a breath.

"Now, Lady Montilyet," The Dread Wolf said in a voice that made Lady Montilyet forget how to breathe from the looks of it, "are you bluffing this time, hmm?"

Hermione looked around, and realised the table had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at Solas.

_Merlin, he could create a new religion when he does that,_ Hermione thought.  _He would have the masses worshipping him, just by giving them that look - the one where he tilts his head down slightly, and narrows his eyes so that his eyebrows looks all dangerous and ridiculously sexy._

_How apt,_ was her next thought.  _If he created a new religion. He is a god, after all. Why not worship The Dread Wolf?_

_Dorian would definitely convert,_ she thought as she looked at Dorian. The man was looking at Solas like he wanted to eat him. Or be eaten by The Dread Wolf, quite possibly.  _He would volunteer for the role of blood sacrifice, in this new religion. There would be a line of willing blood sacrifices._

Josephine had definitely forgotten the whole concept of breathing. “She isn’t breathing, da’harel,” Hermione said in elven. “She will probably faint if you continue like that.”

“Is that even possible, Lethallan?” The Dread Wolf replied in elven, still looking at Josephine. “Curious, I must say.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look at her, Solas. She is practically dying. Also, the whole table is fixed on you. You will accidentally create a new cult if you continue this. A new cult consisting of the inner circle of the Inquisition. Wouldn’t that be just lovely?”

Solas gazed at Josephine for a long moment. “Breathe, da’hellathen,” he said almost softly, resulting in Josephine not breathing at all.

“Solas!” Hermione said in a mirthful voice, especially when hearing what he called her. “Your Dread Wolf is showing, Solas!” She leaned over, gazing at his cards. “Also, Josephine wins this round. Solas’ cards are remarkably terrible.”

Dorian smiled wryly. “Don’t you mean remarkably… _dreadful?”_

Hermione couldn’t help it, she broke down in a complete laughing fit.

When she finally managed to stop laughing, she looked up and found Solas looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “You lost me my round.”

Hermione gave him a mirthful look. “Well, considering how your victory may or may not have ended in death for your opponent, I think I made the right decision.”

“What did he call her?”

Hermione gave Varric an amused look. “He called her ‘little noble struggle’.”

Varric thought about it for a moment, but then he burst out laughing. “How…apt.”

-o-

“I wonder,” Hermione said dreamily, two glasses of wine later, “how it is to be a drunk wolf?”

“I think, vhenan,” Solas replied softly, causing Josephine to sigh in the process, "that you would look utterly ridiculous.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I would probably have trouble with the force of my bite, something that might just be unfortunate for you."

“Well, Lethallan,” he said, giving her a glittery look, “you would have to catch me first. While drunk.”

She narrowed her eyes even more. “I swear I will begin setting out wolf-traps if you don’t stop sassing me.”

He smirked at her, but then his eyes softened. “Ir abelas, emma lath,” he said as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “I blame the wine," he added, giving her a wry smile.

"What, you accidentally got the sass-wine?" Hermione said, giving him a mirthful look. "Also; you are thousands of years  _and_ a genuine elven god, Solas. You can't 'blame the wine', because that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. The excuse 'I blame the wine' was removed from your list of 'believable excuses' approximately three thousand years ago, or so." She paused, thinking a bit. "How old are you, really? I keep choosing a random number every time I refer to your age."

Solas gave her a somewhat jaded look, and she briefly thought she had touched a sensitive subject. Not that she knew why this would be a sensitive subject, but then again, she was not an ancient elven god. Solas' perspective on things like age and time was probably rather different than hers.

Luckily, the small smile he gave her was an amused one. "Old enough for age to mean nothing," 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Your ancient elven god is showing, love, because that sounded like one of those ‘words of wisdom’ people seem to find inspiring. I like to call them ‘ _vague_  words of wisdom’, and that saying there would be on the front cover.” Solas actually chuckled, and Hermione gave him a wry, but genuine, warm smile before continuing. “Alright, if you are to be vague, let’s see if I can figure it out myself.”

Hermione – helped by the Well of Sorrows – tried her best to puzzle the pieces together, and eventually, she looked at Solas with surprised eyes. “Never mind what I said about the excuse 'I blame the wine' being removed from your list of believable excuses approximately three thousand years ago. It was removed from the list at least eight thousand years ago. Am I right?”

“Add one millennia, and I would say yes.”

_“Merlin’s golden knickers,”_  Hermione almost whispered. “Nine thousand years? Well, that’s just…completely insane…and ridiculous.” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you celebrate your birthday any longer? Just imagine the birthday cards; Happy Birthday! 9032 years, and still going strong!” Pausing, she contemplated this for a moment. “That should become a thing, quite frankly. I could write things like; 9032 years, and still, you don’t look a day over 8572! Happy Birthday!” She paused again. “That’s ridiculous, Solas. Also, I suddenly feel like a toddler. I’m 36 years old, and until just ten seconds ago, I thought I was an adult.” She paused  _again._  “How can you honestly find me – or anyone for that matter – interesting? I have lived for 36 years, how can  _anything_  I say or do be even  _remotely_  interesting to you?”

Solas gave her a soft look. “When I say I am old enough for age to mean nothing, I do mean that. It's just  _time,_  Lethallan. It means nothing. Time is the one thing that never changes. It always moves, flows, it is always  _there,_  but it means nothing. We measure in time, when in reality time has nothing to do with anything. A tree will grow to a proper size in five years. But the years have nothing to do with its growth. The tree grows because of the nurture in the soil, the sun, the rain, and the air.  _Time_  does not grow the tree. As for how I can find anyone interesting? The world constantly changes. There is always something new to experience, something new to learn. You have – in the 36 years you've lived – acquired knowledge and wisdom, not to mention experienced things I know nothing about. Thus, what you say and do is interesting to me.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Hermione said softly. “And it makes me feel less inferior. Thank you, love.” She paused, and had a sudden realisation. "Solas...is the unnerving silence due to the fact that everyone left, or because everyone is listening?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he sighed. "The latter, I suspect."

"How is it we always end up in these situations?"

"Because you forget your surroundings," Leliana said, dreamily. “Both of you. Nothing else exists. I always thought something like this was just a fantasy in romance books. How remarkable to see that fantasies can be real, no?"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose before turning to look at their audience.  _Oh Merlin,_  she thought.  _They all look like I did when I watched the Notebook. Even Varric. What is the world coming to?_

“I have to say,” Dorian said in an amused voice, mixed with the same dreamy tone Leliana had, “it was a real challenge to keep from laughing at the ‘you don’t look a day over 8572’.”

“This is  _better_  than the romance novels,” Varric declared, and Hermione inwardly groaned when hearing the excitement in his voice. “The forlorn, misunderstood elven god – please don’t kill me, Chuckles – wandering the world all alone for thousands of years, until the world is on the verge of complete destruction – the end of the world, quite literally – so he steps in, saves the  _one_  person who can actually  _save_  the world. And then everything changes as a woman from another world comes along, knows who he is, and accept it, accept  _him,_ which leads the rest to accept it as well. The elf doesn’t need to hide who he is any longer. And the woman from another world – the woman who spent her whole life searching for purpose, for…something – she finds that purpose in this world a the verge of destruction.”

Hermione didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or fascinated. She did know, however, that she didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, and held up a hand to stop Varric. “Yes, yes. You are in fact quite finished, Varric,” she said before switching to elven as she turned to Solas. “Would you like to hear the rest of Varric's epic tale about our adventures, or would you like to leave?"

"The latter. Most definitely the latter."

“Indeed,” Hermione said before turning to their audience. “Thank you for a lovely evening, but we are going to leave before Varric's storytelling gets out of hand.”

Varric grinned. "But I hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet! Oh well, I'll make sure you get a copy of the book after it's published."

The Dread Wolf appeared next to her, sporting a clearly unimpressed expression. "I'll be waiting with bated breath, Child of the Stone."

Hermione burst into laughter, and was still laughing when she left the tavern accompanied by a very amused trickster-god.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	32. Again, Little Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 32!
> 
> NSFW. I’M NOT KIDDING! It’s totally NSFW xD Consider yourself warned xD  
> Maybe I should have added more tags? I don’t really know what I should add :p If anyone knows, do tell :p
> 
> Virtual hugs for everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

Hermione was lost in thought later that night, lying in the darkness of her bedroom, joined by a naked elf.

"What ails your mind, Lethallan?" said naked elf said, "if you will share it with me."

"Flemeth. Mythal. The encounter will happen any day now, and I suspect it will be me following Morrigan into the Fade, and not the Inquisitor."

Solas was silent for a long moment. "I suspect you are correct, vhenan. And I understand why this bothers your mind."

"It's not that it bothers me, really - well, of course it does - but that's not what I'm thinking about now. I'm thinking about what I should do."

"What do you mean?"

"Should I just go have a chat with her - trying my best to avoid a real confrontation, or should I try to - I don't know - kill her?"

Solas let out a surprised laugh. “In case I misheard you – perhaps you were talking about that wyvern we decided to avoid the other day – and not  _Mythal.”_

Hermione had to laugh as well. “I understand how that could be confusing, indeed. But it was, in fact Mythal. She will definitely realise I am something different. She will also realise I drank from the Well, and that I – hopefully – cannot be controlled by her. I’m not sure if she will  _allow_  me to have a quick chat and then leave again. I think I should prepare for…well,  _anything_. I have no idea.”

“That might be a good idea, Lethallan.”

"Another thing I think about; the Old God's soul. Should I try to stop her from taking it? That will obviously result in a confrontation."

"It is quite unpredictable - just as Mythal herself - and you would do best with preparing for multiple outcomes. It would, of course, be best to stop her attempt to take the soul, but perhaps it will be difficult to avoid."

"I'll just improvise, I suppose," Hermione said, shrugging. "But I can think about that tomorrow."

"Hmmm," she continued as she rolled over to her side, and proceeded to climb on top of Solas, her naked body flush against his.

 _It has to be a god-thing,_ Hermione thought as she felt Solas react to her closeness. 

"Hermione," Solas whispered as his hands moved down her back, cupping her bum.

"Mmmh," she hummed as she kissed his neck, his chest, his nipple, slowly moving up to a sitting position. "Will I ever stop wanting you, Solas?"

"I hope not," Solas replied softly, but then everything changed as Hermione moved up a bit, up, wrapped her fingers around him, causing a heartfelt moan from the ancient elven god underneath her.

She positioned herself, and with one swift movement he was inside her, buried to the hilt.

Solas changed...everything. Those ridiculous romance novels with page after page of sex that sounded like pure bullshit –  _‘he was inside her, and finally, she was complete’_  - that kind of rubbish? All true. With Solas, it was all true. He just...completed her.

Hermione placed both hands on Solas' chest, and began moving.

"Hermione," The Dread Wolf gasped. "Oh, creators, Hermione."

She leaned down - still moving – just to kiss him, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

Something changed, somehow, and Hermione slowed down her movements, almost painfully slow, and his hands moved down to her bum again - she expected that he would encourage her to move faster, but he didn't. He just cupped her bum, letting her decide the pace.

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes, and looked at him with soft eyes, sighing as she moved. "Solas," she whispered, "my wolf."

Something changed in Solas' eyes, like he had been shielding himself without her fully realising. "Hermione," he whispered back, "my witch. My...everything."

She hadn't been aware of it, but perhaps she had been holding back as well, but she could feel it melt away, leaving her completely open, vulnerable, and… _his._  She was his.

His to keep, or his to…break. 

Hermione was completely lost in sensation and emotions as the pressure built in her, slowly, driving her out of her mind as she clung to Solas just as he clung to her.

She almost couldn’t take it any longer when she was pushed over the edge, followed by Solas a moment later.

-o-

They just laid there in silence for a long time, entangled in each other, soft hands, soft skin, soft lips, soft kisses.

"Hermione," Solas said quietly, and there was this time in his voice that made Hermione's whole body react. "I need to...I want...I need you."

The odd tone in his voice touched something deep inside Hermione.

This wasn't her soft Solas, she realised. This was The Dread Wolf. The Dread Wolf that  _needed_ her.

"I'm yours for the taking, my wolf," she said, and heard a similar tone in her own voice.

Her voice unleashed...something. Her wolf almost growled, and before she knew it, he was on top of her, but paused for a moment, gazing at her as if he wanted a confirmation of sorts.

Hermione fixed him with her eyes, and yielded - like a wolf would, quite frankly - she opened her legs completely, her arms slumped down on the mattress with her palms up beside her head, and she tilted her head back, displaying her throat.

Solas stared at her, his breath hitched, and his eyes ignited in a very wolfish manner.

This was, in fact, The Dread Wolf. And seeing her submit to him in such a way made his eyes glow, his teeth clench, and his eyes narrow, giving her an almost dangerous look.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she held his gaze.

"I'm yours, Dread Wolf," she whispered, and Solas' reaction was instant when he heard her words.

He growled.  _Growled._

And then, almost without warning, he buried himself inside her, causing her to throw her head back in a silent scream, leaving her throat completely open.

The Dread Wolf was at her throat in a moment, biting her, small bites, edging on pain.

It fuelled Hermione even more.

He growled again, placing his hands on her wrists, nailing her to the mattress.

She felt his teeth again, just where the shoulder and neck met, and she cried out, a moan that sounded more primal than anything else, and The Dread Wolf growled again.

"You are mine, little wolf," he said in a voice that was  _not_ Solas. "You are  _mine."_

And then, he began to move. Not very hard - at first - but then his thrusts got harder, his pace quickened, and the primal way he was moving left Hermione unable to even think. The fact that she couldn't move her hands just ignited her even more, and the orgasm took her completely by surprise.

Solas growled in a way that was dangerously close to how he growled in wolf form, and she looked at him as she came down from the orgasm.

"Again, little wolf," The Dread Wolf commanded.  _"Again."_

He didn't even slow down, and Hermione bucked, arched her back, and  _growled_  back without even realising. Her hands still pressed down on the mattress, her body was surely on fire, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t…anything. Everything was just emotions and sensations. Nothing else.

The pressure began building again. Quickly. Hermione bucked and growled underneath the Alpha wolf, and the way he growled back made her sure she would  _never_ regain her sanity after this.

Something, somewhere far away in her mind made her realise something. The Dread Wolf was… _claiming_  her, wasn’t he?

_"Again, little wolf!"_

The realisation that he was, in fact, claiming her, the commanding voice, the almost unforgiving way he thrust into her pushed her over the edge  _again_.

The orgasm washed over her, and Hermione practically  _howled._

In the midst of her howl, she felt The Dread Wolf's teeth on her shoulder, biting down, holding her down, and he growled his most wolfish growl yet, just as he was pushed over the edge as well.

With a few, final, hard thrusts, The Dread Wolf stilled, and she looked up at him.

He looked really uncertain, she realised. What a switch.

He had been rather rough though, so she could understand his hesitation.

She gave him a wicked smile. "Hello, Dread Wolf," she said, and the elven god on top of her sighed in relief as he let go of her wrists, slid out of her, and slumped down next to her, pulling her to him in an almost desperate way. 

She held him just as desperately.

Something had just changed between them, Hermione realised. First, they had both let down their guards completely, and utterly, and then...

Then she had been claimed by The Dread Wolf.

And she was completely fine with it.

 

 

 


	33. Tis’ Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 33!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

She was sitting in Josephine's office, looking through some papers when she saw the Ambassador's eyes go all dreamy.

_Here we go,_ she thought.  _She's about to ask about Solas._

Hermione had been waiting for it for a while, quite frankly, and gave Josephine an amused look. "Out with it, Josie."

Josephine gave her a startled look, but blushed. "I couldn't...I shouldn't."

"Did you know he turns into an actual wolf? A black, huge wolf, with blue, piercing eyes."

Josephine's eyes widened. "How did you know what I was thinking about?" She shook her head. "I am somewhat transparent, perhaps. I don't mean - I know he is not - well..."

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry, Josephine, I know what you mean. Solas is...something else, isn't he?"

Josephine's eyes went dreamy again. "He is," she said, and then her eyes widened. Again. "I'm not-"

Hermione laughed again. "I know you aren't. I trust you, Josie. Maker knows I don't blame you for being curious. I would be, if the roles were reversed. Having an elven god in our midst...well...it's somewhat insane, quite frankly."

"Does he truly turn into a wolf?"

Hermione gave the Ambassador an amused look. "He does. A rather magnificent one, in my opinion."

-o-

Almost an hour later, Josephine was completely enthralled, as Hermione was telling her about how The Dread Wolf  _did,_ in fact, howl at the moon, but she stopped suddenly, when she felt a familiar magical signature approach.

"What?"

Hermione looked at the puzzled Ambassador. "Solas will enter the room in approximately ten seconds."

Ten seconds was not enough for Josephine to collect herself, and Solas gave Hermione a somewhat bemused look as he entered. "What did I do now?" he asked in elven. "Or, perhaps the question should be; what did  _you_ do, vhenan?"

Hermione gave Solas a sheepish look. “Hello, love,” she said before switching to elven as well. “I may or may not have told the Ambassador that you howl at the moon.”

Solas rolled his eyes before looking at Josephine. “Aneth ara, da’hellathen,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the swooning woman. “I have a message from the Seeker.”

Josephine switched mode in a moment. “And what does Lady Cassandra say?”

_Sometimes I truly understand why she is the perfect Ambassador,_ Hermione thought as she looked at Josephine’s all-business-expression. _Because that was a rather impressive switch._

-o-

Hermione was checking on some herbs in the garden when Morrigan approached her. “Hello, Morrigan,” Hermione said, smiling at the witch. “What can I help you with?”

“I have decided,” the witch said, rather gravely, “where my loyalties lie. I did, in fact, decide quite some time ago, but it has taken me some time to…wrap my head around this.”

Hermione nodded. “Where is Kieran?”

“With his…with Fiona,” Morrigan said, and then her expression softened. “I must admit…it was right, telling her. I…thank you.”

“I’m just glad you decided to tell her,” Hermione said before giving Morrigan an amused smile. “You aren’t about to tell me you are forever in my debt as well, are you?”

Morrigan actually rolled her eyes. “Perish the thought.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, thank Merlin for that.”

“Thank…who?”

“Merlin. It’s a long story. A story you perhaps would like to hear?”

“Very much so, in fact.”

Hermione nodded. “We should probably go somewhere else, then. My quarters would be ideal.”

“Lead on, oh mysterious woman.”

-o-

Two hours later, Morrigan was sitting in Hermione’s sofa, lost in thought.

"Tis' strange," she said, thoughtfully, "that I would believe you so easily."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I haven't exactly given you any reason  _not_ to trust me, have I?"

"You have not."

"Exactly," Hermione said with a smile. "Now, about Flemeth..."

-o-

Late that night, in the darkness of her bedroom - again naked, joined by The Naked Dread Wolf – Hermione realised Solas was rather silent. “What’s on your mind, love?”

There was a very long moment of silence before Solas spoke. “I have been thinking, vhenan,” he said, quietly, “and I have realised…I don’t…want to be alone any longer.”

There was something about the way he said it that made Hermione pause for a moment. “You aren’t alone, love,” she said, softly. “You aren’t alone any longer. You have me, you have…friends.”

“I have, strange as it is. I have you, I have…friends. People who know who I am, and yet, they do not turn their backs on me. And I find…I would like for it to stay that way. Thus, I have decided…I am staying. If it is in my power to do so, I am staying. I will find a different way to shape the world – a less dramatic way – and perhaps I can…ask for help.”

“I am quite certain,” Hermione whispered as she snuggled closer to him, eyes brimming with tears, “that you will find asking for help most fruitful.”

-o-

The next day, Hermione decided it was time to move out of the tent, and make a more...permanent solution for her living arrangements. Preferably somewhere Solas felt like he belonged as well.

She needed a new location, however, and after talking to the Inquisitor and the advisors, she was given free range of the area over the Undercroft. It had three floors, and practically twice the space she needed, but when they mentioned the vast amounts of books, and that a potions lab, _and_ a research space would probably be a good idea, she agreed.

When she found the huge, circular shaped room, similar to Solas’ room, she decided that – yes, this was definitely the place she would live.

She began with that room. She didn’t quite know why, but she just felt like it was the right thing to do. It felt _important_ that she began there.

She cleaned the room, cleared the walls, the floors, and in the end, she was left with a huge, empty room, light walls void of any colour but the sandy tone of the stone, and a slightly greyer tone for the floor.

Then, she went to find her wolf.

-o-

“We’re…well, moving,” she said, sheepishly as they were standing outside the door to the new quarters, “and I have something for you, that I thought perhaps you would like.”

“We are…moving? _We_ are moving?”

Hermione hesitated. “Well, if you are staying, and I’m staying, obviously, I thought perhaps…since we are practically living together anyway…that you would like to…well, make it more of a permanent solution?” He looked so taken aback that Hermione fidgeted. “Am I wrong? Have I gone ahead and assumed…wrongly?”

He seemed to snap out of his surprised state when he heard the insecurity in her voice. “No, vhenan,” he said softly, “it’s rather the opposite. I haven’t dared assume…well, anything.”

Hermione sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Now, they have given me three floors and an insane amount of space, but I have decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. I have finished one room, and I hope you…like it.”

-o-

“Why did you begin with this room, Lethallan?” Solas asked as he stared in awe around the room. “This is…hardly important, in the bigger picture.”

“Actually, it felt like the most important thing,” she said, quietly. “I want you to feel as if you belong here as well.” He gave her a surprised look, and she gave him a soft look in return. “There’s more. I have something for you, if you want it.”

He just looked at her with puzzled eyes as she summoned paint, a blank canvas, an easel, brushes, and a palette.

“Here,” she said, giving him the palette after putting some paint on it, “try painting something – something not very complicated, but something living. A tree, an animal, something like that.”

-o-

The Dread Wolf painted a wolf. Not any wolf, however.

“That’s…me,” she whispered when she recognised the shape and colour of her wolf-form.

“Almost,” he replied softly before finishing the painting by adding the golden colour of her eyes. “There. Now it’s you, Lethallan.”

“That’s amazing,” she said, breathlessly before managing to snap out of her awe. “Imagine the wolf in motion, tap the canvas with a finger, and say; Artificium Cieo.”

Solas gave her a puzzled look, but did as he was told, and a moment later, they were both looking at the painted wolf as it bounced around, playfully.

“If you prefer the regular paint, I don’t mind,” Hermione said quietly, “but I thought perhaps you would like it.”

“This is amazing, vhenan,” Solas said as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, “and I do like it. Very much so.”

 

 

 


	34. I Didn’t Mean To Cause a Riot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 34! Woop!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

She was quite busy the following week, but eventually they were able to move into the new quarters. There was still a lot to do, of course, but the living room, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom were adequate. 

She had yet to make the shower work properly, but the tent was pitched in a spare room, so that would have to do for now.

Solas was...she didn't quite know...quiet. Just...quiet. She still didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

She thought about the conversation they’d had, the one where he told her he didn’t want to be alone any longer. Did he regret it? Were they moving too fast? She hadn’t exactly given him much time to adjust, had she? She had barely given him any time at all.

_You didn’t even ask him if he wanted to move in with you,_  she thought as she placed a book in the bookshelf.  _You just went ahead and told him ‘we’re moving’. Yes, he said he wanted it as well, but maybe he’s having second thoughts._

Maybe she had just made a huge mistake. Maybe they were moving too fast. Not that  _she_  felt they were moving too fast, but for a man who had lived his life in solitude…maybe this was  _way_  too fast.

Maybe this would scare him away?

_Merlin, I hope not,_  she thought, and shook her head as she exited their quarters.

-o-

She exited the Main Hall and was met with quite the ruckus from just inside the gates.  _What’s going on?_  she thought and headed for the gates.

_Oh, shit,_  she thought as she got closer.  _That’s…that’s Alistair, isn’t it?_

The Inquisitor was in the city – the keep needed a thing or two – and couldn’t exactly greet the King. Hermione had no idea where Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra was right at this moment, and the ruckus at the gates was…a  _ruckus._

And she was First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor, wasn’t she?

_Well, shit,_  she thought, and headed for the ruckus.

"People! Stop crowding King Alistair!" Hermione almost shouted as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Where are your manners?"

King Alistair gave her a look of relief, and Hermione finally managed to reach the poor man.

"I didn't mean to cause a riot."

Hermione had to stop herself from laughing. Alistair was just lovely. He was always lovely.

"You are completely forgiven," she said before adding - sheepishly - "Your Highness."

Alistair looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "I was almost hoping you wouldn’t add that,” he said, and proceeded to blush.

“You were always the humble king, were you not?” Hermione said softly – before thinking – resulting in a puzzled look from said humble king. Hermione blushed. “I mean – well – come with me, Your Majesty.”

-o-

She eventually managed to get the humble king away from the crowd, and then realised she didn’t quite know where to take him. The war room seemed a bit…weird, and when she didn’t find Josephine in her office, Hermione was rather at a loss.

She did, however, find a scout, and prayed he knew  _something_  about  _someone._  “Where is the Ambassador? Do you know?”

The scout nodded, and Hermione inwardly sagged with relief. The relief vanished when the scout replied.

“She is with the Commander, the Seeker, and the Spymaster. They will not return until tonight.”

“Well, shit,” Hermione murmured, and nodded at the scout. “Thank you. Keep an eye out for them, will you? And inform me the instant they return.”

“Will do, First Advisor,” the scout said, inclined his head, and left.

Hermione took a deep breath before turning to the King and his four royal guards again. “Your Majesty, I…” she said before hesitating for a long moment, “I have no idea what to do now. I’m not…well, very experienced in these matters, and those who are is currently unavailable.”

Alistair chuckled. “I didn’t send word that I was coming. I did not expect a parade, First Advisor. I don’t mind waiting.”

Hermione blushed when she realised she hadn’t even introduced herself. “Oh, my, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. My name is Hermione Granger. It is an honour to meet you.”

The King gave her a small bow. “Pleasure to meet you, Lady Granger.”

Hermione spent a small eternity staring at the man, but then she sighed. “I promise to do better the next time you arrive, but for now; if you would come with me?”

-o-

Hermione Granger brought the King of Ferelden with her to her quarters. Ridiculous, but she just had  _no_  idea where to take him.  _And he is probably tired, thirsty, and hungry after the journey,_  she thought as she gestured for the King and his guards to enter her rooms.

“You are First Advisor? First Advisor and Right Hand of The Inquisitor?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King cocked his head. “In that case…perhaps I could ask you a thing or two?”

-o-

Before she knew it, the King had told his guards to step outside, and keep guard outside the door, and Hermione was left alone with the King.

She stared at him for another moment when he turned around again, but then – again – she sighed. “Would you care for something to drink? And something to eat? You must be famished after the journey.”

-o-

_Everything is surreal,_  Hermione thought a few minutes later.  _Kings don’t drink lemonade in the kitchen, do they?_

Apparently they did because that was currently happening, considering how King Alistair was nicely settled on one of the barstools, sitting at the kitchen island, looking rather content.

She contemplated for a moment what to do before locating cheese, bacon, fresh loaf, and tomatoes.

“Rumours say you like cheese, Your Majesty,” Hermione said with a small smile, “so, have you tried bacon with the cheese?”

Alistair looked intrigued instantly. “I have not. Would you recommend it?”

Hermione gave him a real smile this time. “Oh, you have no idea, Your Majesty.”

-o-

Hermione Granger made a bacon-cheese-tomato sandwich for the king. Ridiculous.

_“Why_  have I never tried this before?” The King said, staring at the sandwich in awe.  _“Why_  isn’t this something sold in every shop?”

Hermione sat down at the kitchen island as well, smiling at the King. “Well, probably because I’m…not from here, and the food is a bit different where I come from.”

He gave her a curious look. “And where are you from?”

Hermione wondered what the hell to tell him.  _Everything,_  something in her said.  _Tell him everything. You know him. You can trust him._

“I am…” she trailed off. “It’s…complicated, Your Majesty."

He gave her a puzzled look. "How is it complicated?"

_Tell him,_ the something said again.

So she did.

"I'm not from here," she began, "I'm not from here at all. I'm from a parallel universe, in fact. I know that sounds completely insane, but it doesn't make it any less true."

The king put down the sandwich and stared at her for a moment. "Pardon?"

"Where I come from, Thedas is a fictional world. A fictional world I know very well. I know how the story began, and how it will end."

"What story?"

Hermione shrugged. "Everyone's story. More or less, at least. I know The Hero of Ferelden’s story, The Champion of Kirkwall, The Inquisitor’s story, and…your story.”

The King just stared at her for a long moment. “What?”

“It sounds completely crazy, I know, and you are probably currently wondering whether you find yourself alone in a room with a complete nutcase or not. Well, you aren’t. I can prove it, after all.”

“What?” The King said again. “Just…what?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?” she began, thinking about the scene where Alistair had given the Hero of Ferelden a rose, “I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since.”

Alistair stared at her for  _yet_  another long moment, but then realisation hit him. “That is - that is what I told - how… _how_  do you know about that?”

“I know the story, Alistair,” Hermione said softly. “I’m telling the truth.”

-o-

An eternity or so later, Hermione had talked enough for a lifetime, and the humble king was completely lost in thought.

“I…believe you,” he eventually said. “Or maybe  _I_  am the one going insane.”

“Perhaps it’s both,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’m still trying to convince myself this is real.”

“So…” he said, and Hermione said the hesitation in his eyes, “if you…know everything, do you know…”

Hermione waited for him to continue, but when he just blushed instead, she realised what he was talking about. “Why no one died when killing the Archdemon? Yes.”

He blushed even deeper. “Well, that’s…awkward.”

Hermione chuckled. “A bit,” she said, but then her expression sobered. “Alistair…you should know…Morrigan is…well, she is here. In Skyhold.”

_“WHAT?”_

Sighing, Hermione nodded. “She’s helping us.”

Alistair was quiet for a full five minutes, and Hermione just gave him time to process the rather shocking news.

“Is she…I mean, does she…is the…”

Hermione gazed at him for a moment. “She didn’t come here alone.”

Alistair stared at her for a bit, but then he propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.

She barely heard his whisper. "Is it...has she..."

"His name is Kieran," Hermione said softly. "He's a clever, kind, and rather lovely boy. Morrigan has...changed. She's a good mother."

The kitchen was silent for a long time.

-o-

Alistair finished his sandwich, eventually. And then another one, while asking her the questions he originally intended to ask.

It was basic questions about the Inquisition, quite frankly, and Hermione answered gladly.

And it was with real difficulty she managed to  _not_  laugh when Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and Cassandra entered her quarters, and found the King of Ferelden at the kitchen island, chewing on a piece of bacon.

“Your Majesty!” Josephine said in a rather shocked voice. “Forgive us for not being here to greet you. Have you…Hermione…what…” she stared at Hermione for a moment before almost hissing. “What is the King of Ferelden doing in your  _kitchen?_ ”

Hermione couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Sorry, Josephine, but I had to improvise. You should probably give me a tip or two for next time.”

“Maker, I hope not,” the King of Ferelden quipped, resulting in a gasp from the Ambassador, “because I consider this the best welcome I’ve experienced in years.” He raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “I am not, however, leaving without the recipe for this miracle of a meal.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Hermione said with mirth. “the secret is the butter, quite frankly.”

It seemed like Alistair suddenly remembered that he was, in fact, the King, and turned to the shocked spectators. “No harm done whatsoever. I did not send word, and Lady Granger has been ever so gracious.”

No one said anything, so Hermione just decided to get the next shock over with. “Oh, and I told him who I am.”

_“What?”_

“It felt like the right thing to do, so I did,” Hermione said before meeting Alistair’s eyes. “I trust you, Alistair.”

The King’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then he gave her a small smile. “And I will not betray that trust, Hermione.”

“The world has gone insane, surely,” Josephine added, breathlessly, and both Hermione and Alistair laughed.

 

 


	35. Stop Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 35! I’m getting good at the whole thing where I actually post chapters, yeah?
> 
> Thank you all – again. I adore you!
> 
> Disclaimer: I swear it’s not mine.

 

-o-

 

“I made lemonade and sandwiches for the King of Ferelden today,” Hermione said later that night, in the darkness of the bedroom. “He ate three sandwiches and drank four glasses of lemonade.”

Solas chuckled. “Did you, truly?”

Hermione chuckled as well. “I did. No one was here when he arrived, and I panicked. It worked out rather well, though.”

“I wonder,” Solas said after a moment, “if this might be the reason for why our Ambassador seemed rather distressed today?”

“That _might_ have something to do with it, yes,” Hermione replied with a mirthful voice. “I don’t think she knew whether she should kill me or kiss me.”

“None of the above, preferably,” The Dread Wolf said as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead, “because I rather like being the only one allowed to kiss you.”

Hermione chuckled. “I rather like that as well,” she said, but then paused for a moment. “Solas?”

“Yes?”

“Am I rushing you?”

“What do you mean, Lethallan?”

“I didn’t even ask, I just declared ‘we are moving’, and I realise – in hindsight – that I might have rushed you. You’ve been…quiet.”

“Have I?”

Hermione nodded, even if he couldn’t see it in the dark room. “Yes. And I don’t quite know what to make of it.”

“You are worried,” Solas said after a small eternity, “that I am silent because I am uncertain whether this is what I want.”

“Basically, yes.”

“You are wrong, vhenan,” Solas said, softly, “I am not silent because I am uncertain. I am silent because… Well, because I am waiting for my luck to run out. I never expected to find myself happy, Lethallan, and I certainly did not expect happiness to be handed me on a plate, so to speak.”

“So you don’t regret this?”

“I do not.”

“Well,” Hermione said, softly, “that’s a relief. As for luck? Stop waiting. Live your life instead. It’s like drinking a glass of fine wine, but you don’t even realise how wonderful it tastes, because all you think about is that the glass will be empty soon. No one knows what will happen tomorrow. All we can do is cherish what we have, and do whatever we can to keep it that way. It's better to have lived life to the fullest than to look back and regret the things you didn’t do, the chances you didn’t take.”

Solas was quiet for a time before speaking again. “Tell me about your life, Hermione.”

“What?” she asked, puzzled. “I mean; of course I can do that, but why the sudden question?”

He seemed to think for a moment. “Your wisdom is beyond your years, Lethallan. Your life has made you who you are. Tell me about it.”

It was strange that he asked, in a way, because it felt like these were things he would already know. Because when she arrived here, she already knew him.

_But he didn’t know you,_ she thought, and contemplated where to begin.

“I never fit in,” she began, “not until I learned what I really was.”

-o-

Hermione felt surprisingly refreshed the next morning as she walked up the stairs, looking for Fiona. She had slept for barely an hour, because she had ended up spending the whole night telling Solas about her life. He had asked countless questions, resulting in her barely getting to the part where she began Hogwarts.

She shook off her thoughts when she found Fiona sitting at a table in the mage tower, reading a book. Quickly casting a silence spell around them, Hermione sat down.

Fiona looked up at her, and Hermione instantly realised the elf knew exactly what Hermione was about to say. “Yes, I’m here to talk about that. You have heard about our visitor, I suspect?”

Fiona nodded. “I have. Have you…spoken to him?”

Hermione nodded, and Fiona’s eyes widened, resulting in Hermione shaking her head instead. “I have spoken to him, but I haven’t _told_ him anything. Well, I told him who I am, actually, but I didn’t mention you, nor anything related to his mother. I told him about Kieran, however. He would have found out within the end of the day, after all.”

“I caught a glimpse of him,” Fiona almost whispered, “last night.”

Hermione cocked her head, gazing at the mournful woman. “You should tell him.”

Fiona shook her head vigorously. “No. No, I can’t. It’s too late. He would never forgive me. I don’t _deserve_ his forgiveness. I don’t want to cause him any more pain.”

Hermione sighed. “I understand what you mean, Fiona, but what if you’re wrong? It probably won’t be easy for him to forgive, but what if – with time – he would? What if he would like to know, if it was his choice?”

Fiona shook her head again. “I cannot make myself do that to him.”

“I could do it,” Hermione said softly, “I could talk to him, explain why. Perhaps he would surprise you?”

Fiona shook her head again.

-o-

Hermione was nervous beyond belief when she went in search for Alistair a while later.

Fiona had agreed.

And Hermione _prayed_ this wouldn’t turn out to be a terrible decision.

-o-

The King agreed to talk to her if there were sandwiches involved, and Hermione chuckled as Alistair sat down in her kitchen again.

She made him two sandwiches, and one for herself, and then she sat down with him.

“I have no idea how you will react to this,” she began, resulting in a sceptical look from the king. “Hopefully I’m making the right decision by telling you this.”

“Well, that sounds…ominous.”

Hermione gave him a small smile. “I suppose it does.” Shaking her head, she continued. “What if I told you your mother wasn’t a serving girl in the castle?”

The sandwich was instantly forgotten. “Pardon?”

“What if I told you your mother was, in fact, someone completely different, but that the circumstances made it impossible for her to keep you?”

-o-

Half an hour later or so, Alistair was sitting in Hermione’s kitchen, looking like a storm cloud.

“They never end, do they? The lies.”

Hermione gave him a sad look. “I don’t think they do, quite frankly.”

He actually looked a little surprised. “Why do I get the feeling you are speaking from experience?”

“Life isn’t fair,” Hermione said with a small shrug, “all one can do is make the best of it, I suppose.” Pausing for a moment, she gazed at him. “Would you rather that I didn’t tell you? If you got to choose?”

Alistair gazed at her for a very long moment. “No,” he eventually said, quietly. “I would rather know. Where…where is she? If she is alive? What is her name?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment before deciding on just being blunt. “She is in the mage tower, and her name is Fiona. Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

_“WHAT?”_

-o-

Alistair didn’t have time to make up his mind on whether he wanted to talk to his mother and his son, because later that day he was called away on urgent business.

He had, however, asked if he could write, and if Hermione would write him. Hermione had, of course, agreed. She had given the king quite a lot to think about after all.

_The King of Ferelden is my pen-pal,_ she thought as she brushed her teeth that evening. _Isn’t that just ridiculous._

 

 

 

 


	36. Hopefully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 36! Woooop!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

-o-

 

The group that had killed servants and tortured the elven girl had been judged.

Judged, and beheaded. Good riddance.

The servants had treated Hermione differently after that. They had apparently been rather surprised when the murdering bastards got what they deserved, something that resulted in equally surprised looks in Hermione’s direction.

Hermione had, after all, delivered a rather detailed testimony, and had noticed the elves in the shadows, observing the proceedings.

A few days later, she had begun discovering small changes. Changes that made her puzzled more than once.

How did they know what was her favourite tea?

How did they know she preferred red grapes over the green ones?

And how the hell could they know that she liked the carrots slightly crispy?

It couldn’t be just coincidental, could it?

_Definitely not,_ she thought as an elf placed a plate of toast in front of her. Two pieces of toast with butter, and a tiny bowl of jam on the side instead of _on_ the toast. Her favourite tea, with one slice of lemon, and _just_ the perfect amount of sugar.

Hermione gave the servant a gentle look. “This is lovely,” she said softly. “Ma serannas, da’len.”

The servant girl actually blushed, and gave Hermione a shy smile before hurrying away.

-o-

“I’m getting ready to just track down Flemeth myself,” Hermione said one evening as they were gathered in the war room. “This waiting is driving me insane.” Shaking her head, she continued. “Then again, when I finally _do_ face her, I have no idea what to do. I have prepared myself for several scenarios, but other than that, I just have to wing it. Lovely.”

“Have you worked on trying to break the bind?”

Hermione shook her head. “I have actually been doing just the opposite. I think I can use the binding against her. Hopefully.”

“I hate it when people add ‘hopefully’,” Dorian quipped, “it’s never a good omen, no?”

Hermione chuckled. “I’ve just learned to not trust that it will work without actually _testing_ it first. The theory is sound, but theory is just theory, after all.”

“Why is it that whatever you say; it seems like it comes from experience?”

Hermione gave Cullen a surprised look. “What?”

He gazed at her for a moment. “Theory is just theory, after all. True. This is something rather obvious for those with a healthy dose of common sense, something you truly have. But…there is something about the _way_ you say it that makes it feel like you have personal experience in the matter.”

Hermione shrugged. “Life has taught me a thing or two, I’ll admit to that.”

“Will you ever share the story with us?”

Hermione turned to look at Leliana. “It’s a _long_ and _complicated_ story, to say the least.”

“And I would gladly listen, no matter how long.”

“You had a vital role in a war, is this correct?”

Hermione gave Cassandra a puzzled look. “Well, yes. No. I don’t quite know how to explain it.”

“I believe ‘yes’ would be the correct answer.” When Hermione gave Solas a jaded look, he gave her a small smile. “You downplay your own importance rather frequently, Lethallan.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think it’s the world _over_ -playing my importance,” she said before adding something she instantly regretted. “Even the way I’m described in my biography – which I did approve because it does tell the story rather correctly – feels ridiculous.”

“What?!”

Hermione groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose when she heard the intrigued enthusiasm in Varric’s voice. “Oh, god, why did I say that? Please forget I said that.”

No one wanted to forget she said that, and approximately two hours later, Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, Trevelyan, Varric, Dorian, Blackwall, Josephine, even _Solas_ had a copy of her bloody biography.

Lovely.

-o-

"Wait," Cullen said two days later as he looked up from the book, "you were Minister of Magic? Isn't the Minister the one who rules the country?"

_Why did I give them the books?_ Hermione thought as she sighed. "Well...yes."

Trevelyan chuckled. "Again; why haven't we made you Inquisitor yet?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Except for the fact that I would make a rubbish Inquisitor? I can’t close rifts. And as I am led to understand, the rifts are a rather big deal.”

The Inquisitor just huffed. “I’m pretty sure you could find a way, if you just wanted to.”

_Perhaps I could,_ Hermione thought, but did not say the thought out loud.

 

 

 

 

 


	37. Foolish Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 37!
> 
> Tis’ insane how fast I’m posting, is it not?
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

Three days later, it finally happened. Kieran finally vanished into the Eluvian.

‘Finally’ was a matter of debate, however, because Flemeth was rather intimidating.

“You have brought a…friend, I see.”

Hermione nodded at the ancient witch. “Indeed.”

“And who are you, I wonder?”

“I’m Hermione. Agent of the Inquisition.”

Flemeth actually laughed. “There is more to you than that, girl, is it not?”

_You have no idea,_ Hermione thought. “You could say that. Now, if you would return Kieran to his mother, that would be really nice.”

“Not quite yet, girl,” Flemeth replied. “Not before I get what I came for.”

Hermione sighed. “What do you need the soul for anyway? What is it that you want? Is it just power?”

Flemeth’s expression flashed with surprised, but a moment later she was back to the cunning look. “One will never have too much power, girl.”

Hermione managed to _not_ roll her eyes. “I disagree, quite frankly. Just look at the confused ancient darkspawn strolling around, trying to break the world. The power he carries…well, he just shouldn’t have that.”

“And what would you know of the power he carries?” Flemeth said, cocking her head. “What is it that you _think_ you know?”

“Return Kieran and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

Flemeth moved, and Hermione reacted instantly. _“Accio Kieran!”_ The ancient witch was so taken aback that before she could react, Hermione had pushed Kieran to his mother. _“Run._ I will keep her occupied until you get out.”

They ran, and Hermione just managed to block a spell, bouncing it back so it hit the witch, knocking her over.

_The now angry witch,_ Hermione thought as she watched Flemeth get up from the ground, anger sparking in her eyes. “I don’t want to fight you, Flemeth.”

“What do you know, _girl,_ what do you know of the power he carries? Are you even aware of what forces you are toying with?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione said as she blocked another spell, “I do.”

Flemeth stopped casting spells, and smirked. “Foolish. Naïve. You do not what forces are in play here.”

“Well, that power he carries is basically his orb, more or less.”

Flemeth’s smirk broadened. “Yes…that _orb._ I wonder if you would find it interesting to know how it came to be in his possession.”

Hermione shrugged. “Probably. If I didn’t already know.”

“Foolish girl. You have, in your midst-“

“The Dread Wolf? Indeed. That I already know…Mythal.”

Flemeth just stared at her for a moment, but then she collected herself. “Surprising, I will admit as much. Now, since you know who I am…perhaps you regret the Well?”

“Not really, no. It was rather useful.”

“Naïve, indeed. How disappointing.”

Hermione sighed. “Jesus, Flemeth. What is it that you _want?”_

“I was here for a powerful soul,” the witch said, cocking her head, “and I intend to leave with one.”

Hermione felt a tug in the binding, but shrugged it off. “It doesn’t work, I’m sorry. And my soul is mine to keep, I’m afraid.”

Mythal stared at her. _Stared._ “What _are_ you, girl?”

“Different.”

-o-

_How the hell did we end up here?_ Hermione thought a while later. Somehow, she had ended up ‘chatting’ with the witch.

“But don’t you see?” Hermione said, gesturing around her, “there is a reason for why the Fade is separate. There is a reason for why it should  _stay that way._  It’s not something one can undo. Not even you. One cannot just casually reshape the world and then put it back together.”

"I believe you underestimate - again - the forces in play, girl."

Hermione shook her head. "I think you  _overestimate_ the forces in play, Mythal. Solas made a ridiculous mistake when giving the orb to Corypheus. He knows this. Corypheus will break the world if he isn’t stopped. He will _break_ the world, because he will do the exact same thing _you_ want to do. What makes you think you can do something he cannot do?” Flemeth looked very much offended, and Hermione sighed. “You are a Dalish god. Yes, you will probably manage better than the ancient magister. But what if you fail? It is _you_ who underestimate the danger here. What if you can’t put the world back together? What if you can’t fix it? Is it _truly_ worth the risk? Mar solas ene mar din, Mythal. You should take a step back and _truly_ consider this. Just _trust_ me on this.”

The witch did actually look slightly taken aback for a moment, but then she shook her head. “You do not know what you speak of, girl.”

Hermione flung her hands in the air, sighing. “That’s the thing, Flemeth. I _do_ know what I speak of. I _know_ how this story ends.”

“Pray tell, girl,” Flemeth said, raising an eyebrow, “how could you possibly know how this ‘story’ ends?”

“Because I’m different. I’m not…from here. Trust me; I _know_ how this story ends. And if the path is not changed, it is not a happy ending. Even for the Dalish gods.” Shaking her head, she continued. “I have prepared for this meeting for quite a while. I have contemplated a wide variety of scenarios. At least fifteen of them is killing you, a couple of them involves mind control, not to mention the several situations where I turn this binding around on you.”

Flemeth laughed. “You are rather amusing, girl, I must say.”

Hermione – with great relief when it worked – turned the binding around, and in the next moment she could _feel_ the connection, and how she could use it against the ancient witch.

Said ancient witch looked terrified.

“You see? You should _listen_ to me, witch,” she said as she lifted the binding again, “and what you _should_ do, is go ahead and track down that pretend-Archdemon, and kill it, so we can kill the bloody magister. Then – if the orb isn’t already destroyed – we should destroy it, and you should – instead of spending eternity trying to do something that will almost certainly break the world – find some happiness. It’s been 9000 years, Mythal! Don’t you deserve some bloody happiness? To live your life instead of plotting in the shadows? It’s been _9000 years._ The Dalish gods are probably used to their life by now. Not to mention that this world – it _has_ changed rather a lot in 9000 years after all – will probably cause them nothing but grief. Is it worth it? Is it worth the risk? You – and Solas – are clinging on to an ancient dream, an illusion, and you should let it go.”

Flemeth didn’t say anything, surprisingly. She just gazed at Hermione.

“None of the scenarios I pictured involved letting you leave this place,” Hermione eventually said, “but perhaps that is what I should do? Perhaps I should give you a chance to think about it?”

“And you call _me_ proud, girl? Perhaps you should look at yourself.”

Hermione shook her head. “No. It’s not pride. Not now that I know how well my magic works on you. Even if I can’t kill you, I can most certainly control you.”

After a _very_ long moment, Flemeth nodded. “I will…consider what you have said,” she said, ever so quietly. “I will truly consider it.”

Hermione had – for some reason – no doubt whatsoever that the witch was telling the truth.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	38. Do What You Must

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 38! Insane, I know!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

-o-

 

Hermione took a shivering breath when she exited the Eluvian, and a moment later, her whole body trembled.

_I’m alive,_ she thought, and realised that she had been considering the risk of death-by-Mythal as one of the rather legitimate outcomes of this situation.

But she was alive.

And in the next moment, she was faced with a rather distressed Dread Wolf. “Are you alright?” he said with an intense voice as he grabbed her arms. “What happened?”

She gave him a weak smile. "I'm fine, love. I'm just a bit shaken."

-o-

It took approximately forever to explain what had happened, and why she had decided to let Mythal go.

"I have a feeling that there is a chance of that pretend-Archdemon being history sometime in the near future."

"We cannot trust her."

Hermione nodded. "I know, Solas. I'm not that foolish. But what I'm basically certain of is that Mythal is currently contemplating whether she should reconsider...well, everything."

"I hope you are correct."

"Me too."

-o-

A week later, Hermione was sitting at a table in the Main Hall, lost in thought.

She was so…tired. Just tired. Saving the world was an ordeal. Everything was an ordeal.

“This came for you, My Lady.”

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as a letter was held out to her, and after a moment of confusion she took the letter and nodded. “Thank you.”

**_We are in agreement, girl – not on everything – but firstly; he must be stopped. Thus, I did as ‘suggested’, and his blighted creature is no more. I am certain the mighty Inquisition can find a way to confirm this, hmm?_ **

**_Secondly; a life-long conviction is not undone in the blink of an eye, nor am I certain it ever will._ **

**_‘Finding happiness’, a ridiculous notion, is it not? A long life would suggest it is._ **

**_His creature is gone. Do what you must._ **

**_M._ **

_Did I just receive a letter from Flemeth?_ Hermione thought as she re-read the letter. _I think I did._

A moment later, she almost gasped. _His blighted creature is no more! She has killed the dragon!_

Hermione actually banged her knee in the table, and ended up more or less hopping on one leg towards the war room.

-o-

“I will put my agents on the case,” Leliana said. “We need confirmation.”

“What if it’s true? He’s mortal if it’s true. If he is mortal…perhaps we shouldn’t wait for him to come to us. Innocent lives could be spared.”

“We must consider all options. I will send scouts right away.”

Hermione nodded, and Leliana rushed out of the room.

-o-

A little while later, Hermione was in the quarters, and was rather lost in thought when Solas entered.

"How was she? Mythal? Before, I mean?"

Solas stopped, giving her a puzzled look, but then he got this thoughtful expression on his face. "She was very different. Kind. Gentle. Just. Fair. She was a dear friend. Once."

"What changed?"

Solas seemed to think about this for a moment. "It is hard to explain."

"Is it like Anders? He shared body with a Spirit of Justice, but as time passed, everything changed, leaving a Spirit of Vengeance. She was a goddess of justice, in a way, wasn’t she? But when she ‘merged’ with Flemeth, the justice-part thwarted into something else? Something darker?”

Solas gave her a slightly surprised look. "Well...yes, perhaps. In a way.”

“Do you think there is hope for her?”

“I do not know, vhenan.”

“One of the things that truly caused a reaction from her,” Hermione said after a long moment, “is when I suggested she should find happiness.”

Solas actually chuckled. “I can imagine. The mere idea is rather absurd, I imagine, just as it was for me.”

His expression changed, and Hermione shook her head. “Let go of that thought, whatever it is. You’re allowed to be happy.” Getting up, she walked over to him and took his hand. “Now, my dearest wolf, would you like to accompany me in the shower?”

Her dearest wolf would absolutely like that, it seemed, because a moment later said wolf picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.

-o-

“I have these moments where everything feels so surreal,” Hermione said a while later as they were standing in the shower – she had finished the shower in their quarters, and the shower had three showerheads, and was big enough for them both – and probably three more people – looking at the assortment of soaps she had managed to crack the code on and recreated in her potions lab. “Like right now; I’m standing here, trying to figure out what soap I want to use. Outside, the world is coming to an end, and here I am, trying to figure out if I want to smell like lemon or strawberry.”

“The strawberry, vhenan,” Solas said softly as he wrapped his arms around her, “if I am to get a saying.”

She smiled. “It’s the little things that makes one happy, isn’t it? Strawberry it is.”

-o-

Later that day, Hermione stopped by Vivienne to deliver a message, and found the woman looking at herself in the mirror.

“You shouldn’t worry about your age, Vivienne.”

The woman spun around, and the embarrassment was clear on her face. “Pardon?”

“You shouldn’t worry about your age,” Hermione said after gazing at the woman for a moment, “nor should you worry about becoming irrelevant.”

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “That is private.”

Hermione nodded. “I know. Still, you shouldn’t worry. You do _not_ look your age. And why in the world is your greatest fear irrelevance? Vivienne, you will never be irrelevant, if you want to. Consider a worst-case-scenario where you lose your status in your current life, what would you do?”

“I could not do anything.”

Hermione shook her head. “You shouldn't base your life on other people. If you lost your current status, I would suggest that you moved, perhaps found a small country, usurp it - the current ruler would probably back down without question - and then you could rule your small country with an iron fist, people would be in awe, and as you grew older, your hair would become a shining silver, and you would look every bit of the powerful woman you were. Or, you could just let go of your fear, and say 'step aside, bitches, I can crush your skull with a snap of my fingers' and they would be too afraid to do anything else."

Vivienne actually snorted a laugh – something so unlike her that Hermione had to stop herself from staring at the lady – and shook her head. “This is Orlais, my dear. It’s not quite that easy.”

Hermione gave her an amused smile. “I realise that. My point is that there is always a way. There is _always_ a way.”

“If only that was true.”

Hermione handed the letter to Vivienne with a smile. “It _is_ true. _Especially_ if you believe it is true.”

-o-

On an impulse, Hermione baked cookies. Some with raisins, but mostly with chocolate chips.

Warm cookies in her bag, Hermione went in search of Sera.

Sera didn’t _quite_ like Hermione. Hermione made her nervous. Just as Cole made her nervous.

That did not, however, mean that Hermione planned to just let Sera go without actually trying to get to know her first.

-o-

“Oh, it’s you,” Sera said as Hermione poked her head inside the room. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Hermione replied as she stepped inside the room, “first, I am going to unsettle you by reminding you how I know things I shouldn’t, and then I am going to – hopefully – make you forget all about it with my peace offering.”

Sera was already looking unsettled, and Hermione just opened the basket with the cookies. Sera took one look at the content in the basket, and then her eyes widened. “Oh. That’s just…I don’t like this.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I am going to let you hate me, though. Give me a chance. Cookies on the roof.”

-o-

Sera – still unsettled – sat next to Hermione on the roof, and reluctantly accepted a cookie. “If you know everything, this is a rubbish peace offering. I hate raisins.”

Hermione nodded. “I know. These were just for the sake of it,” she said before picking up a different cookie. _“These,_ however, is a peace offering.”

Turned out Sera _loved_ chocolate chip cookies, and Hermione was rather pleased with herself when she exited the rogue’s room a while later.

-o-

She had intended to leave the tavern, but got side-tracked by Iron Bull and the Chargers.

Two hours or so later, she was nose-deep in a rather unlikely strong drink, and had a foolish grin on her face. Said foolish grin had been a permanent fixture for the last hour, at least, but Hermione found she didn’t mind at all.

“Bull,” she said, grinning at him, “if I can’t walk back to my quarters, can you carry me? I can sit on your shoulders and hold on to your horns.”

Iron Bull laughed. “Gives the saying ‘ride the Bull’ a whole new meaning, doesn’t it? But yeah, you can.”

Hermione – very unladylike – snorted a laugh. "Thanks! You're awesome! And yes, indeed, it does give it a new meaning."

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow, but then he shook his head. "I almost forget sometimes - what you - you know what I mean."

Hermione took an unhealthy sip before nodding. "Yeah, I get it. It's a good thing you got going there, though! The whole 'give you what you need' thing. It's rather caring and gentle - in a you-need-a-safeword kind of way.”

Iron Bull roared with laughter, and Hermione just giggled into her drink before giving him a grin.

“That should be awkward,” Bull said, grinning back at her. “But it’s not. Weird. You never make things awkward. Huh. Weird.”

Hermione snorted another unladylike laugh. “I spent half my life being awkward. I got sick of it. The secret is just not to care. Be blunt, smile and wave, ‘have a good day, sir!’ That’s the secret.”

Iron Bull laughed again. “That’s not bad…” He trailed off, probably because he was watching Hermione as her expression changed.

She could feel Solas magical signature. And he was walking towards the tavern.

“Huh,” he said, looking at Hermione as her expression softened. “What just happened?”

“Solas is coming this way,” she simply said in a voice just as soft as her expression.

“Huh,” he said again, “I thought the whole ‘euphoric love’ thing passed after some months. _That_ expression, though? Shit. How do you even keep your hands off each other?”

Hermione looked at Bull with a wicked expression. “By making sure to be…sated? Frequently? An hour up against the bathroom wall – a few hours ago – does help on the ‘hands off’ thing.”

“Damn,” Bull breathed. “I rarely misjudge, but that bald elf of yours? I thought he was this dry, boring, all-serious guy.” He paused, giving her an amused look. “I was just _dreadfully_ wrong, right?”

Hermione giggled. “Totally.”

Solas entered the tavern, and Hermione’s focus changed instantly, smiling softly at ‘that bald elf of hers’. Bull paused for a moment, apparently noticing Solas. “Damn. He’s just as bad. That’s just… _love_ , isn’t it?”

“I recommend it,” Hermione said softly just as Solas reached their table. “Hello, love.”

He gave her an amused smile as he sat down across the table from her and Bull. “Hello, Lethallan.” He turned to Bull. “Good evening, Bull.”

Bull raised his glass. “Hey, Solas. Join us?”

“This will ‘put some chest on your chest’,” Hermione added, pointing at her drink, “and apparently that’s a good thing.”

Solas chuckled. “And how many have you had?”

Hermione grinned. “Fifty-six? Yeah. Something like that.”

“How can one turn down such an offer?” The Dread Wolf said, and accepted the glass Bull was holding out to him.

-o-

"I once broke into a bank - the best protected place in the whole world - stole a piece of an evil soul, and then flew out on a completely untamed dragon."

"Damn," Bull said - again - and raised his glass. "To dragons!"

Solas chuckled. "To dragons."

When Hermione took yet another unhealthy sip, Iron Bull gave her an impressed look. “I’m beginning to think you have replaced that with water. A person three times your size would be sleeping under the table long ago.”

Hermione grinned. “Well, I am totally drunk. But I’m not quite ready to sleep under the table yet. I don’t usually do that. You might have to carry me home, though.” She turned to Solas with a grin. “Bull promised me I could sit on his shoulders and hold onto his horns. And that _is_ happening.”

Solas gave her an amused look. “You will be quite the sight, I imagine.”

Hermione raised her glass. “Hopefully!”

-o-

Solas left a while later after being told Cassandra had something she wanted to discuss, and yet another while after that, Hermione ‘rode the Bull’ back to her quarters.

She was a giggling mess when Bull placed her – ever so gently – on the floor. “Thanks for the ride, Bull,” she said, and gave him a hug before opening the door. Looking at him over her shoulder, she grinned. “Goodnight!”

He gave her a genuine smile, and inclined his head. “Goodnight, Kadan.”

He was gone before Hermione could react.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	39. Impending Doom Upon All The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 39! Wow!
> 
> Disclaimer: Ain’t mine, yo!

 

-o-

 

Two days later, they left Skyhold – ‘they’ being the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Sera, Solas, and Hermione – and it didn’t take them long to reach the Hinterlands.

Except for the fact that Sera and Solas did  _not_ get along, the journey was just fine.

The two elves just couldn't stop bickering.

When Hermione heard Solas speak elven, and Sera answer with a rude sound, Hermione had had enough, and she stopped and turned to them.

"Honestly, could you just stop? It's driving me insane."

Solas gave her a dark look. "I don't-"

"Yes, you do," Hermione interrupted, resulting in a smirk from Sera. "You as well, Sera." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them a strict look. "Solas, stop being a stereotypical elf. Sera, stop being so bloody racist.”

Sera gave her a look of outrage. “I’m not!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Really, Sera?  _How_  are you not being racist? You trash talk elves  _all the time.”_

“I’m just so sick of the whole ‘oooh, look at me, I’m an elf, I’m better than you’.”

“Really, Sera?  _Really?_  You do realise you are describing  _yourself_  as well with that statement?”

“What? No! I don’t care what race people are! People are just people!”

Hermione flung her hands in the air. “Except for elves. You automatically don’t like them. If the Inquisitor had been an elf, do you know what your greeting would be? ‘So, you’re the Herald-thingy. Aaaand, you’re an elf’. The latter with a disgusted face.  _How_  is that not racist?”

Sera looked slightly panicked. “But – no – that’s not right! And this one,” she said, gesturing at Solas, “doesn’t like me because I’m not the ‘right’ type of elf.”

Hermione just looked at Sera for a moment. “I’m completely sure that whether you are the ‘right’ type of elf has nothing to do with it. I would think it had something to do with the fact that you have been  _nothing_  but rude to him ever since the first time you saw him. And why have you been rude? Because he’s an  _elf._  That sounds rather racist to me.”

“But he’s just as rude!”

Hermione nodded. “True. And I have no idea why you would think it was a good idea to speak elven to Sera. I have no idea why the two of you keep bickering. What are you trying to accomplish? You are going nowhere, fast. We are the bloody inner circle of the Inquisition. We  _have_   _to_  get along. So if you could just try to tolerate each other, and try being polite every once in a while, that would be nice. Now, let’s focus on what’s important, shall we?”

She didn’t give them time to answer; she just spun on her heel and walked back to Iron Bull.

The bickering actually got better after that, and Sera seemed to be rather lost in thought. Hopefully, she thought about what Hermione had said. Sera  _was_  being racist, she just didn’t realise it. She thought it was justified.

-o-

"So, fearless leader," Evelyn said with an amused smile as Hermione pulled out her dagger from the back of a bandit, "where to next?"

Hermione gave Evelyn a jaded look. "Well, oh, mighty Herald of Andraste, there is a rift on the other side of that hill there, so perhaps you could be so kind as to bring your oh-mighty-Herald-hand and do something about it?"

The Mighty Herald of Andraste just chuckled as they began walking again.

-o-

“So, Solas, tell us about this elven artefact nearby.”

“There is a,” Solas began before giving Hermione a startled look, “elven artefact nearby,” he finished lamely.

“That should be disturbing,” Iron Bull said, amused, “but it’s just funny.”

“Yes, thank you, Lethallan.”

Hermione gave Solas an amused smile when she saw his jaded expression. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

-o-

“Was she right?” Hermione heard Sera whisper to Iron Bull later that night. “Am I racist?”

Hermione – in the process of casting wards – pretended to not hear them, but was almost holding her breath, listening intently for Bull’s reply.

“Yes,” he simply answered, and Sera cursed under her breath.

_Thank you, Bull,_  Hermione thought, still pretending to not hear anything.

Sera went into the tent a few minutes later, and Hermione cast a silence spell as she sat down next to Bull. “Did you mean it?”

Iron Bull smirked. “So you were listening, huh? Thought so. Yeah, yeah I meant it. You were right in everything you said.”

Hermione sighed in relief. “Thanks, Bull.”

“No problem, Kadan.”

Hermione gave Bull a warm smile, gave him a peck on the cheek, and went into the tent.

-o-

“I apologise.”

Hermione gave Solas a puzzled look as she climbed into bed. “What? Why?”

“You were right. About Sera and I.”

“So you’re not annoyed with me?”

“I am not.”

“Good. Why, though? Why speak elven? You  _knew_  she would be annoyed.”

Solas shrugged. “Mainly because I knew it would annoy her. But, in part, because I hope to find a different side of her hidden somewhere. It is as you said; we are the inner circle of the Inquisition, we need to get along.”

Hermione curled up to her lovely elf. “Well, I think she is reconsidering her point of view as we speak. She asked Bull about it, and he just confirmed what I said. Very blunt even.” She paused for a moment. “Why are you wearing clothes?”

Solas chuckled. “I could ask you the same.”

“I have no idea. Let’s do something about it, shall we?”

“Gladly, vhenan,” Solas said in that utterly erotic tone of his, making Hermione’s skin tingle.

-o-

They returned to Skyhold a few days later, and although it was good to be home, Hermione had slightly mixed feelings.

Skyhold meant they were back to waiting.

_Doom Upon All the World,_  she thought,  _what an apt quest name._

The feeling of impending doom – the feeling she liked to call ‘impending doom upon the world’ had her constantly on edge.

She wondered how long they would have to wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	40. He Wouldn’t Do That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 40!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine.

 

-o-

 

Finally, it happened.

“I’m going insane,” Hermione said one morning as they were gathered at the war table. “Honestly. I wish it would just happen soon.”

“Do we know where Corypheus is now?”

_There it is,_  Hermione thought, and her blood froze in her veins. “Yes, we do! He is here! That’s the conversation! Go, go!”

-o-

The battle proceeded just as in the game. The dragon was already dead, something that made thing easier, but that did not mean it was a walk in the park.

The bloody darkspawn was too strong for Hermione’s liking, and she spent half the time – or so it felt – dodging his beams of evil while trying to get in a spell or two.

Eventually, he went down.

And the orb shattered in the process.

_Good riddance,_  Hermione thought as she got up from the ground – she had been thrown back by the blast wave of the explosion – and looked around to find out if everyone was alright.

Solas, Evelyn, Morrigan, and Iron Bull were alright.

_Where's Dorian?_ Hermione thought, and a bad feeling clenched in her gut. "Dorian!  _Dorian!"_

She gasped when she found him. He was lying half atop on a rock, and there was just something... _wrong_ with the way he lay there.

"Dorian," she gasped, and fell to her knees next to him, casting a diagnostic charm.

He was alive.

Barely.

"No, no, no, no, no," she whispered as she got into action, summoning every type of healing potion from her pouch.

Dorian was...broken.

"I swear, Dorian, if you die..." her voice cracked up, and she continued in barely a whisper. "Don't die. Just don't die."

She had no idea how much time passed as she did everything in her power to save the sassy Tevinter mage. She cast every healing spell she could think of, poured an unhealthy amount of healing potions down his throat – even Essence of Dittany – and she was almost certain he would die.

His heart stopped beating for a long moment.

It didn’t start beating again.

One minute went by.

He was going to die.

Two minutes.

Hermione was  _desperate._  She was close –  _all too close_  – to exhausting herself to the point where she would just run out of magic. Forever, probably. If it could save him, however, she was willing to give up her magic. The only problem was that she couldn’t really heal him without the magic.

Three minutes.

Hermione sent jolts of magic into his chest, urging his heart to start beating again.

Three and a half minutes.

Hermione sucked in a breath when she felt his heart – ever so unsteady – began beating again.

She almost couldn’t see from the tears pouring down her cheeks, desperately casting the strongest healing spells she knew, again and again.

She was on the verge of passing out when something changed. His heart got stronger, steadier, and she watched as the bleeding eased, and his wounds began knitting themselves together.

He was going to survive.

The broken bones healed, and when Hermione saw some of the runes turning green on the diagnostic spell, she finally realised he  _was_  going to live. Leaning down, she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him – tears still streaming down her face – and just murmured soft words to him.

After forever and a day, Dorian’s eyelids flickered.

Hermione choked on a sob when he opened his eyes.

“What…what happened?” Dorian asked weakly, and Hermione pulled him closer.

“You died,” she managed, “you died.”

In the next moment, exhaustion took over, and Hermione felt herself topple over just as everything went black.

-o-

She woke up again – at some point – in the bedroom in the quarters, and expected to see Solas there.

He wasn’t there. She was alone in the bedroom.

The blood froze in her veins as she replayed everything that had happened before she blacked out.

In the game, that was the point where Solas left.

She was sitting in the bed in a flash, fighting the dizziness from the quick movement.

What if he left?

What if he was gone?

_He isn’t,_  she thought, trying to believe her own thoughts.  _He wouldn’t do that. Not now. He wouldn’t._

Would he?

She tried to get out of bed, but after realising she would black out again if she tried to walk, she sat back, blood frozen in her veins, clutching the covers of the bed, trying to breathe.

She had no idea how much time had passed – an excruciating eternity, or so it felt – when she felt the familiar magical signature approach the quarters.

Hermione’s blood thawed, and she…broke down and cried.

“Hermione?” warm arms embraced her. “What is wrong? Are you hurt?”

Hermione shook her head. “You weren’t here,” she managed, “and I…I…”

There was a moment of silence before the arms pulled her closer. “You thought I left.”

“Yes.”

Before she knew it, he was there, kissing her, holding her, murmuring soft words to her, and after some time, she managed to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to overreact. I’m just…tired. The last thing I remember is Dorian almost dying, and then I woke up without you…and I just lost it.”

“Do not apologise, vhenan,” Solas murmured. “I am sorry for not being her when you woke up.”

She sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted again, and the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was a soft ‘sleep, Lethallan. I will be here when you wake up’.

 

 

 

 


	41. It’s All Nugshit, Innit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 41!
> 
> It’s the beginning of the end, folks! There’s just one more chapter after this one. There is no epilogue, because I haven’t decided whether to write a sequel or not yet! And an epilogue leaves me with less room for creativity with a possible sequel xD We’ll see, won’t we?
> 
> Thank you for staying with me through everything, even when I disappeared for months, and thank you for your kudos and bookmarks <3 I do not regret posting this story, that’s for sure! So thank you, all of you!
> 
> Also, can you believe that I managed to edit and post 34 chapters in one day? Because I’m not sure if I believe it xD
> 
> Disclaimer: Surprisingly, still not mine.

 

-o-

 

She woke up the next morning – Solas was there, sleeping next to her – and she actually felt rather refreshed.

She barely moved, but he woke up in an instant, looking at her with worried eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Surprisingly fine, in fact. Sorry for being an emotional mess."

He shook his head. "With everything that has happened, I would think that to be the most rational reaction, Lethallan."

“Perhaps,” she said, giving him a somewhat sheepish smile. “Anyway, what happened? Corypheus _is_ dead, right? And Dorian _is_ alive?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“How many casualties?”

“Due to the quick reaction; less than expected. Still, any casualty is a tragedy. But it could have been much worse.”

“How are…well, people?”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “The average description would be drunk, I believe.”

“What; _now?”_

“Indeed. The celebrations are…enthusiastic.”

Hermione thought about this for a moment, and realised she was, in fact, rather enthusiastic herself. Happy. Yes, there was still a whole lot to do; rifts, red Lyrium, Red Templars, and generally cleaning up the aftermath, but for now…for now, they could celebrate.

“Actually, I would rather like to join in on the enthusiastic celebration.”

Solas smiled. “In that case; you woke up just in time. The big celebration party is tonight.”

-o-

Hermione eventually emerged from their chambers – after some nakedness with her lovely elf, a long shower, and generally doing all the things that made her feel human – and within ten seconds, she found herself attacked – hugged, she realised a moment later – by Dorian.

“Solas told me you had woken up,” he said as he stepped back, still holding her by the upper arms while studying her face, “but I found it difficult to believe him. I have _never_ seen you as pale, my dear. You foolish woman, why would you risk yourself like that?”

Hermione just gave him a look that told him exactly how much of a moron he was right now. “Don’t be an imbecile, Dorian.” Dorian looked genuinely puzzled, and Hermione realised he actually _didn’t_ know why she would do such a thing. “Are you serious, Dorian? Was that an actual, serious question?”

He hesitated. “Yes?”

She just stared blankly at him for a moment. “Well, I’m really sorry, but it’s a ridiculous question. Why would I do that? Because I would be miserable without you, foolish man. Because you are one of my dearest friends, because I love you, and because you are _worth_ saving. Merlin’s knickers, Dorian, I have told you these things on several occasions.”

Dorian was staring at her, apparently utterly taken aback by this revelation. “I know you have,” he said quietly, “but people say such things, yes? It does not necessarily mean they are true.”

“Well, I don’t say such things without meaning it,” she said softly. “You are one of my favourite people in the world. I would gladly die for you, if I am to be melodramatic – hopefully it won’t come to that – but I wouldn’t die from healing you.”

Dorian’s expression flickered with a whole range of emotions before landing on shock. He actually paled. “You wouldn’t die…but you would lose your magic.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. But if that meant I could save you; so be it. The thing I was worried about at the time was whether I was able to heal you fully _before_ I ran out of magic for good.” Dorian just stared at her, so she gave him a look of angry grief. “You _died,_ Dorian. Your heart stopped beating, your body was broken, your blood was mostly on the ground instead of in you, and you were _dead._ And I don’t mean _almost._ You were literally _dead_ for almost four minutes.” She pointed at him, giving him an angry look. _“Never_ do that to me again, you hear?”

The ever-so-sassy Tevinter had apparently gone mute. "I'm..." he eventually said, "I don't know what to say."

Hermione gave him a look of slight disbelief. "Dorian, you fool," she said softly. "You have been there for me ever since I came here. You have been my rock more than once. And if you could start by promising me that you'll do your best not to die, that would be great."

"I promise," he almost whispered. "And I... You are..."

She gave him a soft smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I know you love me. Let me ask you this – melodramatic, I know – what would you be willing to sacrifice to save your friends? To save me?”

The answer came without hesitation. “Anything.”

“There you go, then. It’s not that difficult, now is it?”

“Hermione…I owe you-“

“Let me interrupt you right there,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t owe me _anything._ Let that go right away. You’re alive, I am alive, the crazy darkspawn is dead; we won. Yay us!”

“You almost gave up your magic.”

“ _Almost_ being the key word here. My magic is intact, your bones are no longer a shattered mess on a rock. We are good. Now, you don’t have to say anything, but you could try to remember that when I say something, I do, in fact, mean it.”

Dorian stared at her for another long moment, and then he pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you, my dearest,” he murmured. “Just…thank you.” He paused for a moment, and Hermione was relieved to hear some of the sass was back in his voice when he spoke again. “And I _do_ love you, I will admit as much, yes?”

Hermione chuckled as she squeezed him tight for a moment before letting him go.

Dorian stepped back, smiling, but his smile faltered as his eyes fell on something behind her.

She was so used to Solas’ magical signature by now that she had not realised he was there.

Yes, Dorian was gay. Yes, they were just friends, Solas knew this. Still…she had just been practically cuddling another man, _and_ told him she loved him.

“Is he doing the sexy-eyebrow thing?” Hermione whispered to Dorian. “It’s all in the eyebrows.”

“No, he isn’t,” Dorian whispered back. “He is, however, looking at us.”

“And you are just awkwardly looking back? That’s…kind of hilarious.”

“So I am not about to be ripped to shreds by The Dread Wolf?”

“Definitely not,” Hermione replied in an amused voice as she stepped to the side, meeting Solas’ eyes.

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian said rather breathlessly when Solas met her eyes as he closed the short distance between them, “the two of you…you could make anyone believe that true love is, in fact, a reality.”

“It was not my intention to spy,” Solas said as he stopped next to them, looking at both Dorian and Hermione, “but the Inquisitor is eager to get the public speech part of this celebration over with, and the inner circle is supposed to be there during said speech.”

“And you don’t want to kill me for just clinging to your girlfriend and telling her I love her?” Dorian asked, and immediately looked like he wanted to slap himself. “Well, I regret pointing that out.”

Hermione noticed the glittery look on Solas face, and decided to just end this before it escalated. “It wasn’t _your_ name I was practically screaming less than two hours ago, Dorian. Now, let’s find our fearless Inquisitor, shall we?”

Both men looked quite perplexed for a moment, but then the glittery look returned to Solas face as he nodded. “We shall.”

-o-

Hermione still did not like public attention. Of course, after almost a year in Thedas she was getting somewhat used to it, but the whole cheering-crowd thing was quite frankly something she could do without.

 _I'm officially a war heroine again,_ Hermione thought without enthusiasm.  _Hooray._

She looked around at the inner circle of the Inquisition. They were truly an odd group. 

One huge Qunari, two elves, one fake Grey Warden, one dwarf, one Tevinter mage, one posh noble mage, one spirit – although no one noticed him, Hermione suspected – and one seeker with royal blood. The advisors looked positively dull in comparison.

-o-

Two hours later, Hermione found herself – with a glass of wine in her hand – sitting on Iron Bull’s horn. As it turned out, Hermione’s narrow behind fitted rather perfectly on one of his horns, and with the tip of the horn pointing upwards, she had something to hold onto as well. It would probably have been a bigger ordeal if Bull didn’t take a hold of her foot whenever he was going to move, however.

“This is hilarious,” she said as she patted Bull’s head, “and rather impressive, quite frankly. Aren’t I heavy?”

He chuckled. “I have worn _helmets_ heavier than you, Hermione.”

Hermione giggled. “Alright then,” she said before leaning down to whisper so only he could hear her. “I think Josephine would consider it a dream come true if she was allowed to sit here for a while.”

“Really?”

Hermione chuckled. “Definitely.”

-o-

Yet another while later, Hermione had moved to a chair, and was thrilled when she saw Josephine pass by, and Bull grabbed her and placed her – effortlessly – on top of one of his horns. Josephine protested in shock at first, but when she suddenly found herself settled safely on the horn, her expression changed, and when Iron Bull handed her a glass of wine, Josephine was beaming.

“I was so right,” Hermione murmured to her favourite Dalish god next to her. “Look at our Ambassador.”

“I think our Ambassador had done well, should she choose to replace her diplomacy with an adventure every once in a while,” the Dalish god murmured back.

“Exactly.”

“How are you feeling, Lethallan?”

Hermione gave him a warm smile. “Fine. And by fine, I mean fine. Honestly. I will probably sleep a bit more the next couple of days, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“Usually you require more rest before recovering.”

Hermione nodded. “Healing magic is different. It’s extremely draining in the moment, but considering how it is a very light form of magic, it heals quicker. The darker the magic is, the more time it takes to heal.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad.”

They were interrupted when someone slumped down to sit on the table in front of Solas.

“I’m sorry! I was wrong, alright?”

It was Sera. And she was drunk. A drunken Sera wasn’t necessarily bad though, because she had a tendency to tell the blunt truth when alcohol was involved. She told them exactly what she meant, and she didn’t lie.

Thus, this conversation could be a complete disaster, or rather helpful.

“Hello, Sera,” Solas said, and Hermione wanted to clap her hands when she noticed the small smile he gave the drunk elf on the table. “And what do you mean?”

“It’s all wrong, innit? I was wrong. I’m totally racist. It’s true; I don’t like you because you are an elf – well, you’re a bit boring, but that’s not really a reason to not like you – but other than that, it’s because you’re an elf, right? It’s all the other way around, and I’m so confused. I was wrong, so what if I’m wrong about everything?”

Hermione held her breath as she waited for Solas to answer. This was the disaster-or-progress-moment.

“You are not wrong about everything, Sera,” Solas said calmly. "What you do, what you work for, it is a good cause. The goal of the Red Jennies is a good one. Help the little people, as you say; it is a good intent. As for the elves...not everyone is the same.”

Solas paused for a moment, and Hermione had to supress a bubble of laughter from the confused expression on Sera’s face.

“Did you know,” Solas continued, “that I rather detest the Dalish?”

“What? You hate the Dalish? _You_ hate the Dalish? Why?”

“I do not detest every Dalish elf. Nor do I not detest the Dalish on a principle, only because they are Dalish. That would be unfair of me. But the obsession with the history of the Dalish elves, the Dalish gods, and the way they see themselves as better than a non-Dalish elf, that is what I dislike.”

Sera was apparently still utterly perplexed. “Why?”

“If I am to describe a stereotypical Dalish elf,” Solas said after thinking for a moment, “it would be an elf with the conviction that he knows everything. He knows the history of their gods, he knows the elves’ bloody history, and he looks down his nose on the elves living in the alienages, or the elves working as servants. Just as the dwarves see the surface-dwarves as practically worthless. The stereotypical Dalish elf is hostile towards humans – filthy shems, as I have heard more than once – worship their gods – the gods they think they know – and obsess with the Dalish history. The problem with this is…most of what they think they know is, in truth, wrong. They do not know their gods, they do not know what _really_ happened to Arlathan, they do not know what event started it all, what event led to the next, they have most of it wrong. And yet, they carry their Dalish pride as a shield, believing it gives them the right to look down on others.”

Sera gazed at him for a long moment, but then her eyes widened in shock. “Wait” _You!_ You know! You’re a Dalish god!”

 _Thank god she’s drunk,_ Hermione thought. _No one will bat an eye from that declaration._

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Well, yes. Although I would prefer not to make it public knowledge.”

Sera smacked a hand over her mouth before giggling. “Shit! I’m sorry! But I get it! You know! You know the truth! And watching the way they throw the whole ‘Dalish-pride’ thing around and bask in the glory of it makes you angry.” She paused for a moment. “Maker’s balls, that has to be just _horrible!”_

Solas gave Sera an amused smile. “Well…at times, yes. I’ll admit.”

Sera seemed to think – deeply – for another moment. “Wait,” she said, and managed to keep her voice down this time, “Mythal. They are all like ‘ooh, poor Mythal, she’s gone, and praaaise Mythal’, but Mythal is walking around messing with the world right now, isn’t she? She’s just a bitch.”

Solas actually chuckled. “Blunt, but dangerously apt.”

Sera had yet another moment of deep thoughts. “They trusted Fen’Harel,” Sera began, and both Solas and Hermione froze, “and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen’Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People.” There was a long moment of silence before Sera spoke again. “And after the destruction of Arlathan, when the gods could no longer hear our prayers, it is said that Fen’Harel spent centuries in a far corner of the earth, giggling madly and hugging himself in glee.”

Hermione held her breath, waiting for what would come next. _Please, Merlin,_ Hermione thought, and froze when Sera looked at Solas.

“It’s all nugshit, innit? That’s not how it went down at all.”

Hermione dared to take a small breath when Solas relaxed ever so slightly. “That would be one of the stories the Dalish got wrong, indeed.”

“Thank Andraste,” Sera said, sighing in relief, “because the thought of you giggling madly and hugging yourself in glee is just disturbing. I hope I’ll never see that happen.”

Solas actually smirked. “I will try to avoid doing that around you, then.”

Sera gave him a shocked look, but when she saw his amused expression, she let out a surprised laugh. “That was a joke! A funny joke! You’re not what I think you are, are you?”

“Hopefully I am not,” Solas said, still looking rather amused. “I’d hate to have my head crammed up a thousand years ago.”

Sera – after another shocked look – burst out laughing. “I get it, I think,” she said after the laughter faded, “I get why you don’t like them. It’s like me when I don’t like elves, or nobles. But I was wrong with the whole ‘hate everyone’ thing. I should hate someone because they’re an asshole, not because they’re an elf, or whatever.”

Solas nodded. “Something like that, yes.”

Sera thought for another moment, and then she bounced up from the table. “Good, yeah? You’re not so bad, right? Later!”

She bounced away, and both Hermione and Solas just looked at her until she vanished behind a chair.

“Well,” Solas said, “that was…interesting.”

Hermione chuckled. “Indeed. And surprisingly productive.”

“Indeed.”

-o-

A while later, Josephine sat down with them, flushed cheeks and a beaming smile. "Can you believe it? I can scarcely believe it. We won," she said before waving a hand dismissively. "Not that we are quite finished yet, with the Templars, the rifts, and all the chaos we are left with, but we won. Now we can begin repairing."

Hermione nodded. "It's lovely. And the repair-process will be much easier without that rambling darkspawn running around."

Josephine let out an enthusiastic laugh. "Exactly.”

“You should come with us sometimes, Ambassador.”

Josephine gave Solas a confused look. “Pardon?”

Solas cocked his head, gazing at the Ambassador, causing Josephine’s cheeks to redden even more. “You should come with us sometimes. I do believe the inner thrill-seeker in you would enjoy it.”

Josephine reddened even more. “Thrill-seeker? _Me?_ No, no. I’m not like that. I could never…no.”

“I highly doubt that, Ambassador,” Solas said calmly, “but for now, we can agree to disagree. The offer still stands for when you change your mind.”

Josephine rolled her eyes, looking all kinds of flustered, and Hermione laughed.

“Also, she _really_ needs to get laid,” Hermione whispered when the Ambassador walked away, resulting in a surprised laugh from The Dread Wolf.

“You might be right, Lethallan.”

Hermione watched as Josephine smiled politely at a noble, and that was when an idea hit her. “Do you think she likes flying?”

“Pardon?”

“I can fly, remember? Maybe I should take her for a trip to the clouds.”

“What, _now_?”

Hermione shrugged. “Why not now? It would be perfect, considering the enthusiastic mood she is in.”

“But your magic…and alcohol – would it be a good idea?”

Hermione smiled. “Please; I could fly loops in the middle of a heart-attack. As for my magic? Flying isn’t draining. It’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Solas looked slightly sceptical, but Hermione noticed the amused glint in his eyes. “If you say so, vhenan.”

Hermione grinned as she got up and headed for Josephine.

-o-

“What?” Josephine asked as they were standing outside the gates a few minutes later. “No, I am not afraid of heights.”

“Do you trust me?”

Josephine looked increasingly confused by the second. “What? Well, yes, of course I do.”

Hermione was tempted to just grab the woman and take off, but shook it off. “Well, would you like to fly?”

“What?”

Looking around, Hermione grinned at Josephine before taking off in a flare of black smoke.

After some loops – generally showing off – Hermione landed again, and studied the Ambassador’s shocked expression.

The shocked expression that flickered with excitement.

Josephine hesitated. “That was… _amazing_.”

Hermione grinned. “It is amazing. And it _feels_ even better.”

“But…what if I…fall?”

Hermione shook her head. “I would never let you fall, Josephine.”

“But…what if something happened, and I fell anyway?”

“Then I would flick my hand and levitate you to the ground. I know what I am doing, Josie.”

-o-

After some magical security measures – an unbreakable invisible rope tied around Josephine’s waist, and the other end tied around Hermione’s waist, Josephine hitched up her skirts, and jumped onto Hermione’s back.

“Ready?”

Josephine’s arms tightened around Hermione, and she spoke in a shaky voice. “Not so fast, please.”

“No worries, we’ll take it slow. And you can just tell me if it’s too fast or too slow.”

-o-

Ten minutes later – mid-air – Hermione was more or less laughing hysterically.

The ever-so-proper Ambassador was acting as if she was on a roller coaster. After clinging onto Hermione as if her life depended on it for the first three minutes, she had grown bolder – and bolder – and now, she was only holding on with her legs, her arms in the air, laughing euphorically.

 _Your inner thrill-seeker is showing, Josie,_ Hermione thought as she took a firmer hold of the Ambassador’s legs…and dived.

Josie screamed first, but when Hermione stopped after a few meters, the scream turned to laughter. “Again!”

Hermione dived again, and this time the Ambassador just laughed.

-o-

They were still laughing rather hysterically when they landed, and Hermione laughed even more when she saw the Ambassador’s appearance. Josephine was ever-so-proper, and the wild-haired, beaming woman with the glittery eyes and flushed skin in front of her was not the diplomat who met the posh visitors.

“That was _amazing!”_

Hermione grinned. “I know. Let me know if you want to do it again sometime.”

Josie clapped her hands, hugged, Hermione, hugged Solas – and promptly blushed – hugged Hermione again, and then the three of them headed back to the party.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	42. You Want the Real to be Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 42!
> 
> And here we are, at the final chapter. Again, thank you all. I love you and adore you!
> 
> Disclaimer: No matter how much I have given my heart and soul, and no matter how much pain I’ve been through because of this frickin game, it’s still not mine. DANG IT!

 

-o-

 

Hermione woke up the next morning, and just lay there for a while, listening to Solas' soft breathing while going through the events of the party.

Josephine had been a delight for the rest of the evening - not that she wasn't usually - but the thrill-seeking, beaming Ambassador was a sight for sore eyes.

Sera had handed Solas an over-sized olive branch, quite frankly. Not to mention the fact that she knew parts of the Fen'Harel story by heart. Rather impressive, that.

Dorian had stopped by rather frequently, just to hug Hermione - he had even hugged _Solas_ at one point, something that had left The Dread Wolf unsettled, and Hermione amused – Iron Bull had plucked Hermione from her chair three times, placing her on his horn, and paraded her around for a bit. The third time he had plucked Josie from her chair as well, and Hermione had laughed until she cried as the huge Qunari marched around the Main Hall with one lady on each horn.

Other than that, Hermione had mingled – it felt like she had talked to _everyone_ – and the party had been an overall delightful event.

And she had kissed Solas in the middle of the Main Hall, resulting in a whole lot of murmuring, but then she had stepped back to look at Solas, and the murmurs had quieted down. It had taken Hermione a moment to understand why, but when she heard sighs from three different places in the room, she had suddenly realised what was happening.

As Dorian had said earlier that evening; _‘Maker’s breath, the two of you could make anyone believe that true love is, in fact, a reality.’_

The kiss had been impulsive, and Hermione had feared the wrath of the Ambassador – the public displays could have begun…well, less public, after all – so she was rather surprised when Josie had just met her with enthusiasm. “You captured the _whole room!_ It was _fascinating!”_

Hermione just hoped Josephine still found the display _fascinating_ today – she had been dancing on a cloud of euphoria the whole party, after all – and wouldn’t give Hermione one of those ‘slightly concerned’ looks she often had.

The party _had_ been a delight, though.

Leliana had laughed. Often. Cassandra had shared a drink with Varric. Solas had chatted with Sera – at a later point – and returned with surprise in his eyes. There was hope, it seemed.

Vivienne had intimidated at least half the nobles there, and Hermione had a moment where she almost dropped her glass of wine in surprise when she saw Vivienne soundlessly mouth the words ‘step aside, bitches’.

The sight had enabled a laughing fit, and she’d spent quite some time trying to explain to Solas why she was laughing. He had finally got the point, and as on cue, Vivienne had done it again, _just_ as Solas glanced at her. The Dread Wolf had laughed heartily as well.

Cole had been rather uncomfortable with the whole thing, but stopped by the party to sit with Hermione and Solas from time to time.

Listening was hard, apparently, and it confused Cole. She had tried to explain the effect alcohol had on the brain, but it hadn’t really done much to help. Explaining it didn’t change the fact that a drunk mind was a muddled, chaotic mind, making it hard for Cole to listen.

Not to mention that a drunk mind also tends to be a dirty mind.

She remembered one of the rather ‘interesting’ situations with Cole from yesterday.

_“Hermione? Why is that man thinking about you in that way?”_

_Hermione turned to where Cole was looking, and found a man glancing at her. She couldn’t help herself, and a moment later, she was in the man’s mind – bad she knew – but she was just too curious._

_“Oh, sweet Merlin,” she said as she saw the mental images in the man’s mind. Images of herself in a rather ‘frisky’ maid outfit, feeding him grapes, dropping items on the floor just to pick them up – so she could show him her mostly bare behind, of course – and giggling whenever the man said anything. When an image of herself massaging the man popped up, Hermione withdrew from his mind._

_“Why?”_

_Hermione blushed. How the hell did she explain this? Solas should be the one to explain this. “Um, Solas, that man has his head full of images of me in a naughty maid outfit, feeding him grapes, bending over to pick things up from the floor, and giving him a massage. Oh, and a whole lot of giggling.”_

_Solas did not look pleased. “Who?”_

_Hermione shook her head. “I am betting at least fifteen women has much worse images of you in their mind – probably right now – so a giggly maid isn’t exactly the worst.”_

_“Why does he want you to be a giggly maid?”_

_Hermione gave Solas a sheepish smile. “Perhaps you would care to explain, Solas?”_

_Solas rolled his eyes. “Because, Cole, humans have strange desires at times. And that man…desires Hermione. Especially as a giggly maid, apparently.”_

_“Why?”_

_Solas seemed at a loss for words, and Hermione sighed. “Humans, elves, animals, dwarves, every creature on earth reproduce in a way or another, Cole. These are basic instincts, quite frankly. Humans have these instincts as well, but being more developed, and able to think, these instincts are only the foundation. A foundation where one can build fantasies – just like dreams, in a way, except you aren’t sleeping – and that man there apparently dreams about me as a giggly maid.”_

_“He wants to reproduce with you?”_

_Hermione shuddered. “Well, not really. The instinct to reproduce makes humans want…well…”_

_“Cold bathroom tiles against my back – soft, hard, cold, warm, sweet Merlin, sweet Merlin, I am – Cole, get the hell out of my head. I know you don’t mean anything wrong, but that’s priiiivate.”_

_Solas burst out laughing, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Well, Cole,” she said, trying not to blush, “that instinct I was talking about – well – that would be the result. The instinct leads to desire – like I desire Solas.”_

_“The desire is soft, sweet, luck, love. You want the soft, sweet, luck, love.”_

_Hermione sighed. “Exactly. And that’s how children are made.”_

_“I still don’t understand,” Cole said, and Hermione prayed for it all to be over soon, “why that man wants you as a giggly maid.”_

_Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, the foundation is the instinct, and then he adds fantasy to the desire, resulting in me as a maid.”_

_“But you’re not a maid.”_

_“No, but he wants to pretend I am.”_

_“Why?”_

_Hermione had no idea what to say. "Remember those children we watched from the roof? They were playing. They pretended to be something else, someone else."_

_"It made them happy."_

_"Yes."_

_"So that man will be happy because he pretends you are a maid?"_

_"Yes. It's instinct combined with wanting to play,” she said before pausing for a moment. “Cole, you have listened to countless minds; have you listened to someone think about wanting to be someone else?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And why do they want to be someone else?”_

_“Because they are unhappy. They want to be someone who is not unhappy.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“When they pretend to be someone else, they forget they are unhappy.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“Is that man unhappy?”_

_“Not necessarily unhappy. But discontent, perhaps. He looks like he is rather bored at the moment, and picturing me as a giggly maid makes him forget that he is bored. Pretending makes one forget about the negative feelings for a while.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Thank Merlin.”_

_Solas burst out laughing, but stilled when Cole spoke again._

_“You don’t want to be someone else,” he said, glancing at both Solas and Hermione. “You want the real to be real. You don’t want to pretend. Does that mean you are happy?”_

_Hermione gave Cole a soft smile. “Yes, Cole. That means we are happy.”_

_“Good,” Cole said, and then he vanished._

It was rather amusing, really, the fact that she had explained the birds and the bees to a Spirit of Compassion.

Smiling in amusement, Hermione continued her chain of thoughts, remembering more events from yesterday.

Blackwall had apparently been wearing his smooth-as-fuck-armour, because she had observed him more than once with a giggling noble lady looking at him with stars in her eyes. _He does have his moments,_ she thought. _Not quite Dread-Wolf-smooth, however._

Her next thought was Cullen. Cullen was not at all smooth. He was sweet and gentle, but his smooth-switch was for the most part off. He reminded her of Alistair – with the awkward, shy approach – completely unaware of how much of a swoon-worthy man he was.

He had at least _talked_ with some ladies yesterday, but Hermione suspected he was utterly oblivious of the level of swoon going on around him.

 _It’s rather cute, how the manliest of men – Commander of the Inquisition – manages to stay so completely in the dark when it comes to women,_ she thought, shook her head, and turned around to curl up to Solas.

 _Her_ Solas. Who would be staying. And so would Hermione. They had a world still in chaos, but at least for now they could rest easy, take a breather, even if just for a moment.

_“You want the real to be real. You don’t want to pretend. Does that mean you are happy?”_

_“Yes, Cole. That means we are happy.”_

Hermione _was_ happy. And she was…home.

With a smile still on her face, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
